


Closer

by mugsandpugs



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Poly Crows, Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Spanking, Touch-Repulsed Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: Told from the point of view of all Crows and pairings, in an alternate universe where Matthias lives and all the Crows are polyamorously involved, Kaz struggles to control a gang consisting largely of people he has complicated feelings for; especially when they keep leaving. His duties as leader of the Dregs is compromised when a certain Sharpshooter mucks up his plans and a Wraith that is no longer his responsibility sends coded letters asking for help.





	1. Close to Perfect (Multi)

It wasn’t the first time Jesper Fahey had been caught with cum glistening on his lips. Hell; it wasn’t even the first time _Kaz_ had interrupted him kneeling at another man’s feet.

It was just that this time, Inej and Kaz _together_ stumbled upon him in such delicate circumstances with a certain red-faced Wylan Van Eck, having entered through the front door of the young merchant’s mansion and made it to the music room before realizing anything was amiss. 

As the leaders of the Dregs stared blankly at the two men, Jesper noticed the snowflakes melting in Inej’s scarf, and that her small hand was clasped in the black leather grip of- 

“Are you holding _hands?!”_ Jesper asked incredulously, while Wylan sputtered and hastily zipped his trousers. He accidentally slammed his hand on the grand piano’s ivory keys, and their minor chord rang loudly in the spacious, comfortably decorated room, accompanied by the cheerful crackle of flames from the fireplace. 

“Evening Jesper, Wylan,” Kaz greeted breezily, nodding his head at them both. Jesper thought he detected a hint of annoyance in his tone. Clearly, _Jesper_ was the one intruding on something, despite this being Wylan’s home. 

Smooth as silk, he released his hold on Inej and took an inconspicuous step back. "Don't let me keep you; I was just leaving." He turned, tall and stiff as a tin soldier, and made for the door. 

“Oh, boo!” a disembodied female voice objected, and was promptly shushed by an unseen man. Kaz halted in his tracks. 

“Zenik!” He snapped without turning to face the curtain, where the two voices emanated. “You’re supposed to be working. I asked you to keep an eye on the Dime Lions tonight.” 

Petulantly, Nina emerged from behind the room's curtains, flushed and giggly from drink with a clearly intoxicated Matthias close behind. Kaz’s eyebrows shot disapprovingly into his hairline. 

“It seems I’m interrupting more than I bargained for,” he sneered, disdain dripping from every syllable: Kaz Brekker, the ultimate cockblock. “Were you just waiting for Inej to complete the party, then?” 

Inej shot him an icy look; if he felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees, he didn't show it. 

Nina, dressed in a red silk robe that barely came to the top of her thighs, flipped her mane of thick brown hair over one shoulder. Worshipfully, Matthias watched the glossy strands fall messily over her ivory skin. “There’s an idea,” she retorted defensively, stepping in and taking both Inej's hands in hers, offering her a tender smile for a half moment before turning her evergreen glare back on Kaz. “Since _you_ clearly don’t know shit about showing a girl a good time. I assume you can see yourself out?” 

For one so tipsy, she was cuttingly eloquent. 

“Of course,” Kaz replied, voice dangerously soft, the set of his expression deadly as he stared Nina down. Jesper was captivated by the abrupt tenseness in the room as the two enormous presences stood at odds. Nina, proud and tall with her eyes bright, plump lips kiss-bruised to a mauve; nearly naked and all the more powerful for it. Kaz was fully and impeccably dressed as ever, cane tucked into his elbow, hips and shoulders canted in a way that commanded _keep your distance, or else_ to strangers and companions alike. He was a man with bones like blades under his paper skin, and a tongue capable of hurling words sharper than knives. Already Jesper couldn't say with certainty if his holding Inej’s hand had truly happened or was a figment of his imagination; was Kaz even capable of being so soft? 

Nina was the first to break their stare, tipping her chin up with a defiant little huff of breath and a knowing smirk. “Of course, you're welcome to stay too, if you're not _afraid.”_ Turning her back on him, she rolled her shoulders and let the red silk of her robe puddle like blood at her feet, revealing a sheer chemise underneath. Stepping easily from the ring of fabric, she approached Inej, flickering candlelight highlighting the pearly luminescence of her soft skin. 

“What do you say, Inej,” Nina offered her friend, and leaned in for a moment, whispering something Jesper couldn’t hear into the other woman’s ear. Inej’s dark skin flushed, and she bit her lip as Nina pulled away. He held his breath; since he'd met her some years back, she'd never said yes to a night of fun. Neither a girl who gambled nor a woman who drank. Nobody in the Dregs had ever bedded her, and he knew the source of her reluctance. He wondered if he should step in and offer her an easy excuse to leave, but before he could do so she shocked him by nodding. 

"I'll stay if Kaz stays." 

Jesper and Wylan exchanged glances, and even Matthias craned his neck to take in Kaz's expression. The Druskelle looked back and forth from him to Inej as though waiting for a bomb to explode between them. Inej's face was set and determined when she turned to gauge the leader of the Dregs, who had eyes only for her. 

He returned the stare, expression unreadable. "Is that what you want, Wraith?" 

She nodded, and to the astonishment of everyone in the room, he walked to the velvet chaise lounge meant for guests, leaned his cane against the wall, and sat, folding his hands on his lap. "Then I’ll stay." As simple as that. 

Wylan's jaw dropped, and without looking Jesper closed it for him with the back of his hand. It had been surprising enough when Matthias asked to be let in on their Thursday night parties. _Kaz_ voluntarily lingering to watch the orgy was positively unthinkable, though Jesper couldn't deny that the thought of Kaz's eyes on him as he lost himself in pleasure sent a jolt of liquid electricity through his veins and straight to his groin. 

"Well?" Kaz barked after an awkward moment of hushed blinking. "Carry on." 

Wylan gave a nervous giggle, and everyone let out a relieved exhale as the ice was broken. Nina licked her lips as she watched Inej start to slowly undo the clasps on her vest. She waited until Inej gave a nod of assent before reaching for her, running her hands over the other woman’s trim waist and pulling her close. “You’re beautiful,” she told her friend softly, and ducked her head to kiss her. 

Smiling into the kiss, Inej looped her arms around Nina’s neck, rising to her toes to match her height. When they broke apart, Inej had a wry grin crooking her mouth. _“I’m_ beautiful? Have you looked in a mirror recently, Nina Zenik?” 

Nina beamed, tipsy and delighted. “We are both stunning. Isn’t that right, Brekker?” 

Kaz still looked uncertain. It wasn’t evident on his face- few things ever were- but Jesper saw it in how his arms were crossed, his good foot jiggling slightly. It wasn’t discomfort, exactly, but it was bordering on a slight anxiety. Nina’s question had him rolling his eyes. 

“I might use another word.” 

Something like hurt flashed briefly in Inej’s eyes; Nina promptly turned her back, flashing him a very rude gesture with her free hand. “Forget him.” She slid her fingers through Inej’s hair, the blue-black strands catching the light. “I want you, Ghafa.” 

Inej enthusiastically dragged Nina down for a second kiss, this one far less chaste than the first. A strangled moan rose from somewhere inside Jesper’s chest as he watched them, and then it was Wylan’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Typical,” the merchant snorted affectionately. “Go on, you know you want to join in on the fun.” 

Jesper cocked his head. “You don’t want to?” 

“Not really my thing,” the younger man shrugged nonchalantly. “Girls are… well. But I love watching you.” He said this last bit in a rusty purr of promises to come, and heat burned anew in Jesper’s veins. 

Dragging his boyfriend up by the collar of his shirt, Jesper licked a stripe up his pale, freckled throat. He savored the sight of pink roses blooming in Wylan’s cheeks before kissing him slowly, claiming his mouth and then lowering to nip his jaw. Wylan’s blue eyes had gone hazy by the time Jesper shot him a wicked grin and hopped from the piano bench, strolling to the girls with a sway in his hips. Teasing Wylan would never stop being fun. 

“Mind some company?” he asked Nina and Inej when he reached them, lidding his eyes in a deliberately over-the-top way until they both giggled. 

“I don’t know if you can keep up, Fahey,” Nina told him flirtily, taking his wrist and easily manhandling him until he was trapped between her and Inej, before playfully nipping his nose. Jesper’s smile dimpled and he reached around to squeeze her behind the way she liked, the ruby satin of her chemise bunching in his hands. She made a pleased sound, rolling her hips over his. 

“You look lost, darling,” she said, and it took Jesper a moment to realize she was addressing Inej who, though she was still pressed to his back, hadn’t moved much. “You can speak up any time. A ‘no’ is always respected here.” 

At this, Inej rested her forehead against Jesper’s shoulder, her arms tentatively reaching around him in a hug. “I know,” she said softly. “Thanks.” 

Jesper turned to face her, a knuckle under her chin tilting her face to meet his eyes, and he gave her a grin. “Then c’mere,” he offered, and gripped her by the waist, hoisting her small frame into the air and giving her a kiss. She laughed when he spun her around, and carefully wrapped her strong legs around his waist. 

“What do you want, pretty girl?” he asked, still smiling as he nuzzled her hair, letting kisses fall like shooting stars on a night sky. “Tonight it’s all about you.” 

“Is it?” she countered playfully. “And if I said I wanted only to cuddle and nap?” 

“Well, not to brag, but I am an excellent cuddler. Top notch. Truly stellar.” 

“Liar,” Wylan stage-whispered. “He’s too squirmy to be any good at cuddling. And he always steals the blankets!” 

“You wound me!” Jesper pantomimed a dramatic fall to the lushly carpeted floor, careful to keep Inej cradled to his chest as he did. “See! I’m cuddling now.” He rolled over Inej like two puppies in a basket, then let out an _oof!_ as Nina flopped onto their pile and kissed Inej again. 

Inej was laughing, sparkling, trying to keep up with the onslaught of kisses and affection. It was good to see her like this; even Kaz’s eyes had gone slightly soft when Jesper risked a glance at him, sitting like a king in his throne while his subjects gamboled at his feet. 

The Suli girl had her arms and legs hooked around Nina as the larger woman licked warmly into her mouth, making an appreciative moan that had a hot thrill speeding up Jesper’s heart. 

“You taste good, ‘Nej,” Nina mumbled.. She dragged her mouth over Inej’s cheek, then down her throat. “Sure you only want to cuddle?” 

“Mm,” Inej replied thoughtfully from where she lay sprawled beneath them, hair mussed and dark eyes twinkling. She cupped Jesper’s cheek in her palm. “Maybe not _just_ cuddling.” She tipped her head back to look at Kaz, and he met her eyes evenly, before he turned to look at Jesper. 

“Rub her feet,” Kaz ordered- there was no mistaking it for anything but a command, his deep voice doing interesting things to the butterflies in Jesper’s stomach. “She deserves to have her feet rubbed.” 

Obligingly, Inej folded her legs to her chest, undoing the laces of her winter boots, and Jesper was reminded all over again that if Kaz was king of the Barrel, then surely Inej was queen. Powerless to resist Kaz’s compelling tones, Jesper carefully slid her stockings down. 

Inej’s feet were ugly things; too large for her petite frame, knobbly with prominent veins running throughout, and Jesper felt an almost embarrassing surge of affection for them. He held one in each hand and brought them together, grinning cheekily at her before ducking his head and kissing each sole. The noise of approval she made as he began rubbing his thumbs into them had Kaz shifting slightly in his seat. 

Her face was flushed when he glanced up again and she reached for him, then hesitated. 

“Go ahead,” he encouraged. “There’s no wrong answers. Trust me, if I don’t like it I’ll let you know.” 

Looking more reassured, she lightly scratched her nails along his scalp, tingly and pleasant. 

He took her small face between his large farmer’s hands, cradling her and then touching his mouth to hers. She tasted of Nina with the warmth of brown sugar. He drank her in deeply and pressed a hand to her lower back, bringing her compact length firmly against his body. When she abruptly stiffened, he immediately knew why: his erection was impossible to miss. 

“Sorry-” he began, feeling like an ass, but then she kissed him again, quickly getting over her surprise. 

“Don’t be.” She hitched a leg over his hip, and Jesper saw Kaz’s eyes darken. Returning Jesper’s heated gaze, Kas deliberately bit his lower lip, then _smiled._ It was a predator’s smile. 

At the sound of Jesper’s moan, Kaz’s smile grew into a knowing smirk that sent equal parts panic and desire swooping through him. 

He was distracted by Nina, pushy creature that she was. She had grown tired of being ignored. “Stop hogging Inej,” she complained, and wriggled her way between Jesper and the Wraith. “You look positively _edible,”_ she informed her friend, and there was something foxlike in her bright eyes. 

In response, Inej parted her knees, only an inch or so, but her intention was clear. It was so _hot_ that Jesper bit back another moan and Nina gave a playful shimmy against his straining cock. 

Nina’s smile was all teeth as she acquiesced, her mouth flush to Inej’s sternum as she rucked her tunic up, baring smooth bronzed skin and small breasts with satin-looking nipples. She brought her mouth to one and palmed the other, laving her tongue over a hardened nub. Inej’s toes curled against Jesper’s leg and her back arched, a pleasured sigh escaping her. Kaz’s eyes devoured them all, his crows tangled and panting before him, as though he’d been starving all his life and was finally presented with a feast. Jesper wondered wildly if those impossible eyes of his would sear them all to a crisp if they kept _burning_ so intensely. 

Bending, Jesper sensuously kissed the pale skin of Nina’s shoulderblade, tracing the generous curve of her hip with one hand. He suckled softly at the pulse point of her throat and she tilted her head for him, though he knew not to leave a mark. He’d made _that_ mistake only once, and Matthias had been grumpy for weeks. 

He moved with her, fluid as water, as she slid down the length of Inej’s body, pink tongue kitten-licking over her navel and pearly teeth nipping at the soft skin of her lower belly. 

“Awfully good at this,” Jesper murmured into her ear, admiring her technique. 

Pleased with the compliment, and being a total show-off, she reached behind herself and expertly palmed Jesper through his trousers even as she guided one of Inej’s knees over her shoulder. 

_“Fuck,_ Jesper whined, unable to stop his hips from jerking. She managed to unbutton his trousers left handed while mouthing over the damp patch on Inej’s plain cotton panties. This was overwhelming; his brain was short-circuiting with the visual and physical stimulation. They’d messed around together before but this, coupled with the ever-watchful eyes of the others, was something new and exciting. “ _Fuck,_ Zenik.” 

“I’m good,” she replied with a smug shrug, all too pleased with herself, and then lightly tugged at Inej’s panties with her teeth, shifting them to the side and taking a long swipe with her devil’s tongue. 

Soundlessly Inej bucked, legs flying apart and head falling back until it thumped the floor. Kaz had already half-risen from his seat, concern in the set of his brows, before Jesper quickly placed a hand under her head for cushion. Glaring meaningfully, Kaz sat back down. 

Inej didn’t seem to notice. Her fingers pulled at Nina’s hair, drawing her closer. 

“Saints, Ghafa, who knew you were so demanding,” Nina teased with a chuckle, and rubbed the flat of her tongue against Inej’s slit as toned brown thighs clenched around her. She’d freed Jesper from his trousers and was gripping him firmly, rubbing slow circles over the head of his cock with her thumb. Not to be outdone- though the distraction was considerable- he nipped at her jaw and pressed a palm to her belly in a way he knew made her pulse jump. 

Inej had lost herself in the press and tug and slide of Nina’s sinful tongue and was shuddering as she unraveled under the talented hands massaging her breasts and tugging her nipples. Her cries were soft, but one hand pulled Nina’s hair with increasing fervor while the other dug into the carpet as she fought to hold on, to stay grounded. When Nina’s hand slackened, Jesper lost all decorum and palmed himself, jerking off as he watched the two. 

Inej’s whine as she came was high and pure and Kaz’s eyes darkened to blackest night at the sound. Nina sat back with a very pleased smile on her face, her mouth and jaw glistening and dewy. 

Inej was shaking, thighs twitching, ribs prominent as she panted to catch her breath. Nina leaned up to nuzzle the side of her neck, murmuring softly and working her down with two fingers until she became too sensitive and put a hand down to stop her. Jesper caught only pieces of words- _”did so good,”_ and, _”looked so beautiful,”_ and finally, _”Thanks for trusting me, ‘Nej. I’m honored.”_

Inej’s breathing began to even out and a tall figure strode past Jesper, reaching down and taking Nina’s hand. She locked eyes with Matthias and a wordless exchange passed between them, before his hands were on her shoulders and he’d knocked her back in play-aggression, sucking the taste of Inej from her cheekbone. 

“Saints!” Jesper exclaimed, a grin on his face as he dragged himself and Inej closer to Kaz to get out of their way. Matthias and Nina appeared almost to be wrestling with anger rather than lust, and Matthias’ grunt was more than half pained when Nina sank her teeth harshly into his neck. She managed to get the upper hand, perching astride the Fjerdan’s hips and rocking with a triumphant and bloody smile. 

His large hands nearly wrapped around her thick, creamy thighs, fingers pressing so hard they’d surely leave bruises. It seemed he’d succumbed to being ridden until, with a huff of effort, he rolled them both over again and dragged her back by the hips, the muscles in his torso and arms bunching. 

Nina squealed, but there was no mistaking the smirk on her face when Matthias rucked her chemise to her waist- she wore no panties- and delivered a sound smack to her glorious bottom. Her flesh rippled, then pinked, and she arched her back with a throaty moan in a clear invitation for more. 

Jesper had quite forgotten himself, so distracted was he by the sight of Nina Zenik’s magnificent bare bottom receiving a sound spanking from the appealingly debauched and muscle-bound Matthias Helvar. He felt he could hardly be blamed for this lapse; the image would be keeping him warm on cold nights for years to come. 

He was brought back to the present by the faintest twitch of Inej’s knee under his hand. _Shit._ She was always so quiet and still, always just a breath from disappearing. When he looked into her eyes, he saw uncertainty. Tonight wasn’t a night for her to pull a vanishing act. Tonight, Jesper wanted to help his friend shine. 

“Hey Wraith,” he greeted with a soft, sincere smile meant just for her. Her wide-set doe eyes, heavily fringed with their lacey lashes, blinked in surprise, skin still flushed with the afterglow of an intense orgasm. 

Reaching, Jesper gently tucked an errant strand of dark hair behind her small, perfect ear. “What do you say I continue where Nina left off?” he suggested, voice low. “I could watch you cum all night long.” 

Jesper liked going down on people; it didn’t matter what was between their legs as long as he liked whomever he was pleasuring. On the likely possibility that he’d never again get this opportunity, he wanted his friend to have a night to remember. 

To someone who didn’t know her, hadn’t spent years fighting by her side, watching her back, celebrating victories and mourning losses great and small together with the quiet and softspoken Inej Ghafa, the tells wouldn’t have been so obvious. They might have missed the subtle change in her mood. But not Jesper: he saw it in the set of her mouth, the curl of her shoulders. A man’s face- his face- between her thighs was just something she didn’t want. It was too much, too fast. 

“Okay,” he said simply, and continued to smile. It _was_ okay. He felt a pang of disappointment, but it was only for his ego. “Hey,” he spoke quietly so not even Kaz could overhear. “I love you.” 

A pleased little smile quirked Inej’s lips. “I love you, too!” she responded. “I trust you.” 

The words made warmth bloom in Jesper’s chest. He knew their love was a love between friends, and he was thrilled by the confirmation. But to be _trusted_ by the Wraith was a humbling, almost unheard of honor. “Show me what you want?” he suggested, voice a little hoarse with sudden emotion. 

In response, Inej stood, stripping off her remaining clothes and then carefully settled onto Jesper’s lap, facing Kaz. She was petite but toned, skin the color of new pennies. She was pleasantly solid to hold. 

Jesper automatically shifted his limbs to accommodate her, sweeping her curtain of hair out of his face and wrapping an arm loosely around her waist. He glanced at Kaz, who was watching them quietly, though his eyes burned a strange new fire that was hard to look at directly, like staring into the sun. 

Inej took Jesper’s hand in hers and guided it between her thighs, resting her head back against the sharpshooter’s shoulder. 

Jesper smiled, letting his lips brush the top of her head so she could feel it. “I’ll stop any time you want me to,” he reminded her, and though she said nothing her shoulders relaxed comfortably against his chest. 

She was wet from Nina’s mouth and her own interest alike, and she let out a quiet breath when Jesper’s fingers ghosted over her, learning the shape of her. 

“I would kiss you right now,” Kaz surprised them both by admitting. “If I could.” 

Jesper was stunned. Kaz had never before openly voiced this weakness; it was always a topic he denied or avoided entirely. What was it Nina had said earlier? _I am honored._

Jesper felt honored to be included in this small piece of Kaz’s trust. 

“I’ll do it for you,” he told his leader, and Inej turned her face so that he could give her Kaz’s kiss. 

“What else would you do to me?” Inej asked, and surprise, then arousal, flashed on Kaz’s face. 

“Everything,” he said, voice deep and rasping. “I’d-” But here, words failed him. His eyes met Jesper’s, for the first time since he could remember showing a hint of true vulnerability. Kaz Brekker didn’t know what it meant to touch another human being. He’d locked himself away for so long that this was completely new territory. Jesper wanted to help, to give him the experience as best he could manage. 

“Would you taste the salt on her curves?” he asked his leader, and leaned in to lick the side of Inej’s throat. “Tease her skin just to watch the goosebumps form?” Stroking lightly over her belly and thighs yielded just such a result. “Feel the softness of her breasts, perfectly sized for your palms?” He demonstrated that they were indeed so by massaging them, and her back rolled like a cat’s. 

“I,” Kaz wet his lip with his tongue, eyes hungrily tracking Jesper’s movements. _“Yes.”_

“She’s wet, Kaz,” Jesper said daringly, his hand slipping back to the small woman’s cunt. “So wet. You can hear how ready she is, how easily you can slide your fingers inside her, how they squeeze tight around you, wanting you to stay.” 

When he worked his long index and middle fingers into her, she arched her back, legs falling open and pressing to the inside of Jesper’s. 

“She’s hottest here,” he explained as he fingered her open, working her over. “Burning, almost. It makes you want to bury yourself inside of her, fuck her until you can’t tell where she ends and you begin.” 

Inej’s back bowed, face flushed and mouth forming a high moue of want as Jesper crooked his long fingers inside of her, pressing and thrusting. He crooked them until he stroked a spot that had her eyes wide, her chest heaving. 

“Kaz,” Inej mewled, panting as her hips thrust to match Jesper. _“Kaz... “_

The bastard of the Barrel watched her longingly, a new sheen to his eyes and a furrow on his brow. 

“Yes, love?” He murmured, and _oh._ Jesper had never heard Kaz’s voice like _that_ before; molten lava that caused Inej to buck frantically on Jesper’s fingers with a keening whine. 

She seemed unable to voice her request, but Kaz’s lips twitched in a knowing smile. 

“Does Jesper feel good inside of you, Wraith?” He rumbled in the same new, darkly honeyed tone. “Stretching you open like that for me to watch? Aching for me…” 

His words only stirred her passion; her hole was twitching around Jesper’s fingers, dripping and close. He had to grip her waist tighter to keep her from squirming right off his lap and flying away. 

“I could watch you like this forever.” 

The words were for Inej, Jesper knew it, but Kaz’s eyes met his when he said this. It had become all mixed up somehow: the three of them making love together. Jesper felt powerless to resist Kaz’s bitter coffee stare. He’d always been drawn by power, and Kaz held more in his voice than most men had in their whole bodies, their whole lives. 

Inej came with Kaz’s name on her tongue and Jesper’s thumb on her swollen clit. The leader of the Dregs watched it all, drinking in the sight of her small breasts heaving, of Jesper’s long, strong arms holding her tight. For a moment, the only sound in the room was of her trying to catch her breath. 

Then... 

“Are you going to come for me, too, Jes?” Kaz asked quietly. 

Jesper’s heart flew into his throat and his cock jerked, and then like the firing of a gun he too was coming wet and sticky and hard in his own pants, seeing stars. He didn’t know if he was crying Kaz’s name out loud or if it was just his very blood singing the word again and again. 

Kaz’s face was temporarily an open book, and as Jesper came down he stared, transfixed. He'd seen Kaz give genuine smiles before, and that was rare enough for him to recall each occasion. 

This was different. Not quite a smile, but his normally harsh and sharp eyes were soft. Not just on Inej, but on all of them, on all his crows. He looked over Matthias and Nina, curled into each other like cats in a basket, and when Wylan gave him a cheerful wave, Kaz's mouth twitched in a fond grin. 

_He loves us,_ Jesper realized as he panted, giddy and a little in love with them all. The thought was like liquid light warming him from the inside. He knew it, and he knew he'd never be able to doubt it again. 

Already Kaz was putting himself back together. Jesper had never seen him do it before and it was so subtle it was hard to account for each minute change. The squaring of the shoulders, the straightening of the neck, the focusing of his eyes. Like an actor putting on stage makeup, the softened Kaz from the instant before was soon unrecognizable. 

In his arms, Inej sat up and reached for her discarded tunic, and Jesper shifted to give her space. She cleared her throat nervously, having returned to her senses a bit and feeling unsure whether anything had changed. 

Jesper solved her uncertainty by placing an obnoxiously loud, wet kiss on her cheek while sticking a damp finger into her ear; she laughed in surprise and batted at him. "Ew! Gross, Jes!" 

In front of the fireplace, dozing Nina stirred. "Th’party over?" she slurred, pushing hair from her face and stretching luxuriously. "I'm exhausted." 

Matthias continued snoring like a bear and she rolled her eyes, but settled back against his side. Wylan, blanket and cushions in his arms, went to tuck them in. They usually ended up staying the night after these parties anyway. 

"It was nice to have you here, Kaz and Inej," Nina mumbled, closing her eyes with another yawn. "Should come back next time." 

Inej was standing on slightly shaky legs, and Jesper stood with her, keeping a steadying hold on her arm. At Nina’s invitation, Kaz glanced sharply at Jesper. 

_If you want to,_ The sharpshooter conveyed with a shrug, though he doubted they'd be taken up on the offer. 

Kaz jerked his chin, a nonverbal, _maybe._ Jesper tried not to feel disappointed. 

Inej reached and took Kaz's gloved hand in hers. "Will you stay tonight?" she asked. Clearly Jesper wasn't the only one hoping for more than Kaz was able to give. 

"I can't," he said, though Jes heard the regret in his voice. "I have work. Goodnight, Wraith." 

He made for the door, but was stopped when Inej wouldn't release his hand. He considered her wordlessly, then came close, his lips touching her forehead like the tiniest flutter of a moth’s wings before he quickly stepped back again. 

"What, no kiss for me?" 

He’d meant for it to sound comedic- silly old Jesper, always lightening the mood for everybody!- but something got lost in translation from his brain to his lips. Even to his own ears his words sounded sad, and he cringed hard at himself. Kaz was looking at him. Shit, he was _looking,_ he was probably annoyed again, and- 

Inej stood on tiptoe to give Jesper a full, lingering kiss on the mouth. “That’s from Kaz,” she explained. 

Stunned, the only thing Jesper could think to ask was, “Kaz Brekker would give me _tongue?!”_

_“Goodnight!”_ Kaz said with vehemence , and before anyone could react he was out the door, cane tapping loudly on the wooden hallway before abruptly ceasing. Jesper gawked after him. Had his ears been red? Wonders never ceased. 

A faint smile graced Inej’s lips when Jesper turned to face her. “I think that was good,” she said thoughtfully. “For me. For him. Thanks, everyone.” She touched Jesper’s shoulder lightly before also entering the hallway, turning to the staircase that lead to her bedroom. 

Wylan was standing much closer than Jesper expected, and he jumped a little, his hand flying to cover his lips where Kaz's kiss still burned. "Wylan!" 

The merchant's son raised an eyebrow, arms folded firmly over his chest. Jesper's heart fluttered nervously and he stammered. How could he possibly explain to his boyfriend what had just happened? 

"So," Wylan said, casually leaning his shoulder against the wall. Jesper gulped. Out of everything that had happened that night, being not-kissed by Kaz felt the most blasphemous. "Have you figured yourself out yet?" 

"Huh?" Jesper squeaked, and Wylan rolled his eyes. 

“Jes, don’t play dumb. Everyone knows you’ve had a Ketterdam-sized crush on Kaz for years.” 

“Everyone?!” 

“Everyone,” Nina yawned. Matthias snored agreeably. 

Jesper sighed. His instincts were telling him to hide the soft point of vulnerability, to wear his poker face even when the cards were bad. He ignored them. “That… Yeah. Are you mad?” 

“That you sometimes like them tall, dark, and moody? Not really.” Wylan glanced pointedly at the stain on Jesper’s trousers. “But you do need a bath. And I need some attention.” 

Jesper gazed adoringly at his boyfriend, then grabbed him in a bear-hug, yanking him off his feet as he squeezed him hard. “I love you so much,” he said, overwhelmed with how understanding his boyfriend was. “I love you so, _so_ much. You’re the best boyfriend in the country- the _world!_ I promise I won’t steal all the sheets anymore, and-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wylan snorted, but he was giggling. “Bath. Now. You smell.” 

“And don’t use all my good soap this time!” Nina ordered as they ran off unheedingly, her words lost in the stampede of feet. Rolling her eyes, she nestled more comfortably into Matthias’ side with a smile. Her friends were morons; she loved them dearly. 

… 


	2. Crossing the Line (Jesper/Kaz)

By the time everybody was satisfied (although as usual, Nina had the distinct biological advantage over Jesper, Wylan, and Matthias) and had migrated to a sweaty, musky-smelling heap on the parlor room floor, they were all exhausted.

Nina put a finger to her lips, a smile crinkling her green eyes as she pointed to the cuddling Wylan and Matthias. Jesper grinned back. Matthias had been quite shy about touching anyone who wasn’t Nina at first, but tonight, when Wylan had gazed at him with those irresistable puppy eyes and whined for his cock -such filthy words from such an innocent-looking mouth!- Matthias had allowed himself to be sucked off and then had rolled Wylan over, jerking him off on all fours. It was simultaneously hot _and_ adorable, and Jesper saw the same reaction in Nina’s expression now: _look who’s growing up._

Wordlessly Jesper opened his arms and Nina sidled into his chest; then Matthias pulled them both into the pile. 

It wasn’t long before the other three were sleeping soundly. Jesper occupied himself with working the tangles out of Nina’s long hair until it was soft enough to stroke, and then tied it up in a braid using some string that had fallen from someone’s pocket. After that, he began to fidget. 

“Can you not,” Nina grumbled when he began tapping out the rhythm to one of Wylan’s new songs on her arm, so he gently extricated himself from the others and went to find a blanket to cover them up with. By now, they were all well accustomed to his inability to sit still. 

He slid his trousers back on and made two mugs of tea in the kitchen, then found his feet leading him upstairs, to the little room Inej had claimed as her own. He knocked quietly on the door. “Wraith? You awake?” 

There was a pause, and then the door was creaking open. He smiled at her, offering a mug, and she stepped back to let him in. “You look like you had a good night,” she said pointedly as she took her mug from him and eyed his dishevelled appearance. 

He had the decency to flush. “Well, you know you’re always invited.” 

“I know.” She hadn’t joined them since the first time they’d all been together, and Jesper thought he knew why. Kaz made Inej feel safe, made her feel bold, and he’d been saints-knew-where for days now. “Sit?” 

He sat on top of the crate she used for a makeshift chair, though Wylan had offered to properly furnish her bedroom more than once. They certainly had the money for it. The only thing she’d allowed was a small bed, soft, with an iron head and footboard. Nina had chosen the periwinkle linen. Currently the bed was taken up with a large trunk Inej was in the process of filling with books and folded clothes. The sight caused a dull pang in Jesper’s heart. 

“You’re really leaving tomorrow, huh?” he asked. 

“Oh, don’t sound so sad,” she chided. “It’s not for forever.” 

“Of course I’m sad,” he argued. “I love you, I love seeing you every day. But I’m happy, too; you’re living your dream at last. There’s a very big part of me that wants to go with you.” 

“Maybe someday,” she agreed. “But not now. There’s still so much for you to do here.” 

He couldn’t deny this, so instead he lifted her hat from the windowsill and placed it on her head. “Aye aye, cap’n.” 

It did his heart good to see her smile. She removed the hat and placed it in the trunk, then lifted the entire thing from the bed and set it on the floor. “I think I need to sleep now,” she said. “You’re welcome to stay.” 

She pulled back the sheets and climbed into bed, holding the corner up in invitation. Jesper considered; he felt calmer than he had before- she always had such a soothing effect, even on restless souls like his. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d slept together in that bed. 

Blowing out her candle, he crawled in beside her, pulling her to his chest and breathing in her subtly sweet smell. He now knew the trick; she steeped orange peels in warm water before washing with it. 

“I’ll miss you every day,” he confessed in the dark. 

“And I you, dear,” she told her friend, kissing his cheek. He listened to her softly whispered bedtime prayers until he couldn’t focus anymore, and then he was asleep, deep and dreamless. 

He wasn’t sure at first what had woken him- a soft breeze from the suddenly open window, or the creak of the floor underfoot- but when he cracked his eyes he saw the outline of a tall figure looming over them. 

Kaz had eyes only for Inej. Jesper didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but his gloved hands were folded atop the crow's head of his cane, and his expression was, as usual, impassive. Jesper quickly closed his eyes again when Kaz turned to look at him, and he waited with bated breath, wondering if he’d been caught. 

After a few long, agonizing moments, he heard a rustle of paper as Kaz set something on the crate-turned-chair, and then the slide of the window as Kaz let himself out again. 

He counted to twenty before allowing himself to reopen his eyes. Kaz was gone. Inej slept on, unawares, in his arms. Driven by curiosity he climbed out of bed to look at the note by the light of the full moon. 

_Safe travels, Wraith,_ were the only neatly inscribed words on a scrap of brown paper. That was all; no signature. Jesper snorted in disbelief. The bastard wasn’t even going to say a proper goodbye to her! 

He rushed to the window in time to see the familiar black coat whip around a corner. It was unthinkable. Even _Kaz_ couldn’t be so cold as to leave so many things unsaid! Such a parting was sure to upset her, and Jesper growled as he made up his mind. 

Stopping only to grab a coat and his shoes, which he stuffed his feet into as he raced downstairs and past the sleeping orgy party, he let himself outside. The comfortable weight of his pearl-handled pistols dangled at his hips as he began his instinct-driven search. 

Tracking Kaz wasn’t easy, but then, nothing with Kaz was _ever_ easy. Although his anxiety began building the further he travelled from Crow territory, he tried not to feel discouraged when the creeping sensation of unseen eyes tracking his movements made him twitch. 

Something tugged in the back of his mind as he passed a nondescript alleyway, no different from any of the others he’d passed. He’d been training himself lately to pay heed to these hunches, to accept what his Grisha abilities brought him. With trepidation he stepped back to give the alley a more thorough glance. There was nothing, just a few drunks sleeping it off, and he rolled his eyes at himself, ready to move on. 

He turned to leave but- there! That coat. 

As quietly as he could, sticking to the shadows, he followed the Crows’ leader along a circuitous path to the sixth harbor at Sweet Reef, where ships were docked for the night, eerie ghosts in the fog. Jesper recognized, with some surprise, that one of the ships was Inej’s own _Wraith._ What was it doing all the way over here? 

“Brekker.” 

The voice in the dark made Jesper jump, though the accent and green hat were unmistakable trademarks of their rival gang. A beefy figure dropped from a ship’s mast, landing at a crouch on the dock before striding cockily towards Kaz. Jesper watched in ever-growing puzzlement; this wasn’t Dime Lion territory any more than it was Crow's. 

“You know our agreement,” said Kaz in his clear, authoritative voice. “I trust you’ve upheld your end?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” drawled the Lion. “Nobody’s touched your girl’s ship all night. It’s fine. She’ll be safe to set sail in the morning.” 

From where he was hidden, Jes couldn’t see their expressions very well, but the set to Kaz’s shoulders was quite tense. Jesper reached for his pistols. 

“When did you decide to betray me, Fitz?” Kaz asked with a disappointed sigh. “There’s no need for this. I agreed to pay you well.” 

If Fitz was taken aback by Kaz’s accusation, he didn’t show it. “Yeah, well see,” the bigger man replied conversationally. “You _did_ offer to pay me well. But there are so many more who offer even better pay for… well, _you._ You’ve been rather hard to find lately.” 

As Jesper watched, more and more figures were rising from the fog. Each of the dozen ships in the wharf, including Inej’s own, contained varying numbers of people, and not all of them were wearing the Lion’s colors. Kaz was grossly outnumbered. 

“Who’s paying you?” Kaz asked sharply. Jesper wondered if Kaz’s heart was pounding as hard as his own; adrenaline made his insides quake but his trigger fingers steady with pinpoint precision. 

“Who indeed,” a woman's voice rose from the fog, lilted with quiet amusement. Jesper squinted to focus his eyes; from the _Wraith_ descended a tall, shapely woman in a plum-colored dress. _Tante Heleen._ Just the sight of the woman who had purchased and sold Inej as though she were nothing more than flour or fabric made Jesper’s hackles rise. 

“Ah, I see,” said Kaz. “So this is what you deem proper revenge?” 

“Oh no, darling,” smiled the disgraced owner of what had once been a well-regarded pleasure house. “No, I don’t think so. ‘Proper’ revenge will come days, weeks later, when flies’ eggs hatch in your flayed entrails, as your peeled skin and exposed bones begin to rot with you still trapped inside them, your body dying all around you until you can do nothing but scream and beg for death. Then maybe, maybe I’ll consider myself done with you.” 

“Pretty words,” Kaz complimented, as though they were discussing the weather, as though armed men and women weren’t circling him as he spoke, witnessed only by Jesper and the gentle lapping of seawater on the dock. 

Someone grabbed at Kaz from behind; without even looking away from Heleen’s face, he swung his cane back with enough force that Jesper could hear bone shattering seconds before his attacker collapsed, howling in agony. “You were saying?” 

Heleen smiled bitterly. 

A second later, they were all on Kaz; at least sixty people, armed and trained. Enclosed in the center, Kaz drove and struck, graceful as a dance; a whirlwind of flashing cane, trick knives, a string of small explosives. Bodies dropped at his feet, maimed and shrieking or just plain dead. Still, not even the ruthless tactics of Dirtyhands could hold out against such unfair odds. When he was forced to his injured knee with his own cane braced against his adam's’ apple, arms pulled behind his back, he stared defiantly into the smug face of Heleen. 

She approached him, a small silver knife in her hand. He didn’t flinch as the tip was placed just under his chin, forcing his face up for her to inspect. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment a long time, Brekker,” she breathed euphorically. “Who knows? Maybe I won’t get started on breaking your pretty face just yet. Maybe I’ll let some clients have a little fun with you first, earn back some of the money you lost me. How much do you think some of the enemies you’ve wraked up would pay to pop that cherry, my love?” 

Sickened, Jesper didn’t hesitate any longer. He drew his pistol, aimed, and fired in one smooth, arcing movement. Just like that Heleen was collapsing to her knees with a bullet imbedded deep between her eyes. Next to go was the man gripping Kaz’s throat, then the girl who held his arms. He didn’t worry that a stray bullet would strike Kaz; since he’d come to terms with his Grisha abilities, he knew to always trust his shots to fly true. 

He managed to take out another three attackers before pandemonium ensued. Scrambling to his feet, Kaz looked around frantically, shock and blood spatter on his pale face. “Fahey!” he bellowed in fury, and Jesper cringed like a kicked dog, but his attention was diverted to the gathered group of men and women all the way at the edge of the dock facing the sea and moving their arms in a vaguely familiar pattern. 

“Tidemakers!” he warned, raising his pistol again, but Kaz’s demand of “Don’t!” stayed his trigger finger. “Come here _now,_ Jes!” 

Not knowing what else to do, Jesper obeyed at a run. He was somewhat puzzled why nobody else tried to attack them. Kaz gripped the collar of Jesper’s coat. “Hold on tight,” he ordered, and before Jesper could question why, they were seized by a tumultuous wave and dragged out to sea. 

Jesper had braced himself for impact, instinct forcing him to curl his bigger body protectively around his leader’s. After much jostling, however, things went oddly still, and Jesper dared open his eyes. 

At first it was hard to comprehend what he was experiencing- it was so dark in the murky depths of the water, but Kaz’s chest was rising and falling against his own. 

“Jes,” Kaz said. “It’s safe. You can let go.” 

They were suspended underwater, alright. Jesper’s eyes grew accustomed to the dim green light as he took in the water lapping all around, but not _on_ them, as if they were being held in some sort of bubble, a space created between one wave and the next. Tilting his head back, he stared up in wonder at the massive, barnacle-encrusted underside of a trading ship. 

All at once he understood. 

“You staged this,” he accused, half-expecting his mouth to fill with filthy, briny water as he did so. “You were- the Tidemakers were working with you. They’re doing this.” 

Kaz’s dark eyes looked positively black. Jesper couldn’t remember a time they’d ever stood so close. Experimentally, he removed his arms from around Kaz and took a step away, surprised to find a solid surface under his feet as he did so. He bent and touched the ground, an almost gelatinous substance, and pressed harder until his hand passed through, until water was again rushing through his fingers. When he brought his hand back up, water droplets clung to him, but the small space they stood inside remained dry. 

“I didn’t know they could _do_ this,” he said in awe. 

“You’d be surprised what people can do if they practice their abilities.” 

This sounded like chastisement, and Jesper bristled. “I’ve _been_ practicing!” he insisted. “What do you think all the damn books I’ve been reading-” 

“A student listens to his leader,” Kaz interrupted. “And you continually disregard my orders. Do you have any idea what you did tonight?” 

Oh. Jesper saw now that Kaz was _furious,_ his jaw stiff, his body coiled to strike. He looked very much like he wanted to beat Jesper into the ground. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just saw you in danger and I-” 

“And you jumped in without even considering that I knew what I was doing. You killed at least two of my allies. How long have we been working together? How long until it gets through your thick head that not all of my schemes involve you? I don’t always _want_ you around. You’re only an asset when you follow my orders.” 

The sting of the words felt like a slap. Ever since their epic journey the year prior, he’d began to see the six of them as true companions; together they stood, divided they fell. He’d hoped Kaz belonged with them as much as they belonged with him. 

“I’m sorry, Kaz,” he said, finding the sound of his own voice weak and pathetic. “I only wanted to find you because Inej is leaving tomorrow, and I wanted to know you’d be there to say goodbye.” 

Kaz looked at him for so long then that Jesper began to feel like a complete fool. He squirmed, but forced himself to hold his chin high. “I don’t think I was wrong,” he insisted. “You can’t just let her leave without saying anything! She and you are…” 

But what they were, Jesper couldn’t say. Dating? Were any of the them actually dating? He supposed that he and Wylan were. People like them, they didn’t have happy marriages and adorable children. One didn’t just retire from a life of crime. They continued on and on until they didn’t anymore, grateful for each day survived. 

“I know you’re special to each other,” he finished, rather lamely. 

“Inej knows where she stands with me,” Kaz said, rather coldly. “But I don’t think that _you_ do. You forget your place, Fahey. If you start behaving like we’re friends, I will be forced to grant you a pardon from our gang. You’ve become a risk to our cause.” 

The horrifying thought was too much. There was nothing Kaz could have said so effectively. Pain filled Jesper’s voice as he immediately devolved into pleas. “Kaz, no! You don’t want to do that! I’m a Crow! I’m yours! I’m _yours!”_

No longer trying to hold Kaz back, he was instead gripping his arms in earnestness. “Be as mad at me as you want but don’t _say_ things like that!” 

Kaz’s eyes were contemplative as they studied Jesper’s face, nostrils flaring as he breathed hard, struggling to control his temper. Jes couldn’t help it; his own gaze migrated south, travelling over his leader’s lips before he caught himself. It was too late. 

“Kaz-” Jesper breathed, an apology on his tongue, but was immediately cut off. 

“Quiet.” 

Kaz shrugged Jesper’s grip off and then caught his wrists in gloved hands. Jesper allowed his arms to be crossed, brought over his head, and pressed to the insubstantial wall of their enclosure. 

“Keep them there,” Kaz warned. 

Confused, Jesper kept the position, stretched tall with his hands immobilized. Though fully dressed, Kaz’s sweeping eyes made him feel quite exposed. He shivered, waiting for something to happen. 

“Well?” he said finally, defensively, beginning to fidget as the seconds ticked past. “Are you just going to look at me?” 

“So what if I am? You claim to be mine. I can’t look at what’s mine?” 

Jesper’s eyes widened at the sound of Kaz’s voice. He’d only heard it like _that_ once before: pure, molten lava, risen from the depths of the sea. He shivered harder, blood rushing instantly to his cock. Kaz smiled, aware of the effect he had. He stepped closer and undid the top two buttons of Jesper’s coat. 

“No shirt,” he observed. 

“I left in a hurry,” Jesper explained, mouth dry. He licked his lips, and Kaz watched the movement of his tongue. Were he a more expressive man, Jesper thought he might see a war battling in those unfathomable eyes; desire, certainly; curiosity, maybe; but always, always tamped down by his self-built walls, distancing himself further apart from the rest of the world, brick by brick. “Kaz-” 

He didn’t know what to say. That it was okay, that Kaz needn’t force himself? That he was content to love his leader from afar, to be in his presence and to let some things remain unsaid? Surely Kaz knew all of this already. 

Kaz made timely work of the rest of the buttons, leaving Jesper’s coat to fall open, a frame to his long, brown, lightly-muscled form. Wordlessly, he arched his back, letting Kaz drink in the sight of him. “I never know what you’re thinking,” he admitted when a gloved hand passed along his ribcage, so light it made goosebumps rise. 

“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking,” Kaz replied enigmatically. He brushed one of Jesper’s dark nipples with a thumb, and Jes’s breath hitched audibly. He gulped when two hands squeezed his hips, then slowly drew each pistol from their holster. He’d never allowed anyone to take his prized guns from him before, but he would not, could not deny Kaz Brekker even this, though he felt naked and vulnerable without them. 

“You’re so predictable,” Kaz’s shark-smile grew, and perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Jesper thought just then that he looked wryly fond. “You like danger. You like risk. And so, naturally, you gravitate towards me.” 

The barrel of a loaded pistol was ice cold against Jesper’s belly and he moaned, leaning into it even as his brain recognized the threat that sent his adrenaline flowing and his pulse skyrocketing. This was better than any round of cards where the stakes meant great wealth or deepest debt: this was Kaz Brekker at his most terrible. “I need-” he panted, hips bucking. “I-” 

“Tell me,” Kaz murmured, standing so close that Jes could _feel_ warm breath on the side of his throat. His head spun. This was maddening. _Saints._

“Touch me, Kaz,” Jesper panted, closing his eyes tight. “I’m so close already. Please touch me. Or let me touch myself. Or-” he yelped when he felt Kaz push a gun between the waist of his pants and the skin of his stomach, and felt his body wracked with tremors of want, of fear, of the indescribable emotions that Kaz always invoked. 

“So needy,” Kaz rumbled in his deepest timbre. “Are you always this impatient?” 

“Only for you,” Jesper admitted, face flushing in hot embarrassment. He spread his legs. “Kaz, _please,”_ The need to come was so strong he thought he might die without it. “I need you, Kaz. I think I was made for you. I-” 

He yelped again, babbling interrupted when his hips were seized and jerked forward into Kaz’s own, the buttons of his trousers were torn and a hand plunged inside, gripped Jesper’s weeping cock, and pumped him, rough and slightly painful. 

“Saints,” Jesper’s head fell back, marveling at the sight of Dirtyhands jerking him off, unable to keep his hips from thrusting into the smooth leather that enveloped him, his cock’s head purple and swollen and pulsing with want. “Fuck, yes Kaz. Please. Ugh, if I could touch you, I’d-” 

Kaz cocked his head, and Jesper clamped his lips shut. Was it too much to even mention? Had he just ruined it? 

“You’d what?” Kaz asked, and he looked raw, hungry. “Tell me. Give me something to remember.” 

The thought of Kaz touching himself, later, to Jesper’s words, had miniature sparklers fizzing in his brain. He struggled not to come then and there from the mental image alone. “F-fuck, Kaz. I’d want you in my mouth. I’d want to suck you off so nice you’d forget your own name; I’d swallow every drop.” 

Kaz made a low sound in his throat, a hum of approval. 

“I’d want to kiss you, of course,” Jesper continued, then laughed a little at himself. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

“I know,” Kaz replied. The bastard’s face was blank, but there was a smile in his tone. He thoughtfully pressed the pad of his thumb to Jesper’s lips, and a real smile did appear when Jesper immediately proved good to his word. “I’m not sure how flattered I should be,” he teased drolly. “Word on the street says you’d kiss anyone with a pulse.” 

Jesper pouted. Though he certainly liked kissing, that wasn’t true! “I’d hold your face in my hands,” he insisted. “And look you in the eyes. I’d kiss you soft, again and again, and tell you…” 

His voice faltered when he met Kaz’s eyes, cursing his own bloody big mouth, and he was the first to look away. 

“Oh Jes,” Kaz snorted. “Such a romantic.” It sounded like a bad word, the way Kaz said it.He might as well have rolled his eyes. 

He dimly registered the sound of Kaz dropping his pistols before a hand was on his throat, the other pushing him over onto his stomach. He struggled to keep his own hands up on the wall as he was flipped, as Kaz’s fully-dressed body pressed to his back, an unmistakable bulge nudging his ass as Kaz continued to pump him, lightly squeezing his neck in rhythm as he ground against his captive. 

“Who’s did you say you were, Jes?” Kaz asked conversationally as Jesper was reduced to shuddery breaths and whines, his knees buckling, held up only by Kaz’s body. 

“Yours,” he promised. “Yours, Kaz; always been yours. I’m, fuck, _Kaz!”_

He came hard in long, shuddering pulses and Kaz stroked him through it all, then simply held him as he caught his breath. 

“That’s right,” Kaz agreed, sounding slightly breathless himself. “You’re mine; my best sharpshooter. And that’s why you need to follow my orders, do you understand?” 

As he cooled down, the involuntary muscle spasms falling still, something tugged in Jesper’s mind again like a false note in a song. “Of course,” he agreed, a question in his voice. 

“Good,” Kaz said persuasively, still holding him. “So it’s settled then. Please stay out of my affairs unless I come to you with an assignment.” 

Oh. Was that what this had been about? Re-training the unruly dog with punishments and treats until he learned to behave like a good boy again? Of course. Why had he ever thought there was anything more to it than that? He was such an idiot, so easily led by his heart and his dick while his mind fell so far behind. 

“Brekker, I’d like for you to get off me now,” Jesper said, hollowness ringing in his voice. For all of his faults, Jesper knew this would be a request he would respect. 

Once freed, Jesper straightened up and began buttoning his coat and zipping his trousers. Then he carefully placed each pistol back in its proper holster. He felt cold inside; a defense mechanism. He could not, _would_ not cry now. 

When he felt he was composed enough, he turned and cleared his throat. “How long do we have to be down here?” 

If Kaz saw that he’d crossed a line, he didn’t show it. He slowly wiped both his gloves clean on the walls of their enclosure, which inexplicably made Jesper feel low and filthy. _Too dirty even for Dirtyhands._ He tried not to wince. 

“Not long,” he replied casually, as though they’d been discussing business over tea. “Long enough to pass for dead.” 

Jesper sat, resting his head on the side of their enclosure, and focused on his breathing. Inej had been trying to teach him mindful meditation and, though he’d never felt like a success at it, it was a good means of controlling his emotions. 

Kaz left him to his thoughts until dawn light began filtering through the waters and their enclosure began to shudder, then rise through the water. It burst when they reached the surface, leaving them bobbing like corks in the early-morning spray of salt and grey foam. Jesper began to tread water, unconsciously reaching for Kaz before pulling his hand back. Kaz was fine on his own. 

When he saw the approaching lifeboat, he met it halfway at an easy breaststroke and allowed himself to be pulled aboard. 

“Isn’t he the one that shot Katya last night?” the older of the two Tidemakers questioned. “And Syren?” 

“He was acting on my orders,” Kaz lied, heaving himself into the boat as well. “We’ll discuss last night’s proceedings at our next meeting. I trust our ‘guests’ last night are all taken care of, and Ghafa’s ship is ready to set sail?” 

The younger of their rescuers looked dubious, but nodded curtly and handed Kaz his cane back. 

The morning air was quite cold on his drenched skin and Jesper repressed a shiver as they rowed back to sixth harbor, where merchants were just beginning to open up shop, news boys stood waiting for their daily assignments, and fisher girls bustled about with baskets balanced on their hips. 

When they reached the dock and climbed to land, Jesper made to begin the long walk back home, but was stopped by the sight of a very familiar carriage approaching. 

“Right on time,” Kaz said with a strained smile. 

One of Van Eck’s servants was driving the carriage, and when they reached the docks he climbed from his seat and opened the door, offering his hand to Inej as she climbed down. She looked prepared for anything in black pants and her usual vest with a thick woolen hood keeping her warm. 

Close behind were Nina and Wylan, and then Matthias was last as he helped the driver take Inej’s trunk. 

Everyone stared as they approached. They must have looked so strange: the two missing members of their party turning up unexpectedly, absolutely saturated with sea water and accompanied by a couple of strangers. 

“What in _Ghezin’s_ name happened to you two?!” Nina demanded, gawking at their dripping, clinging clothes. “Where have you _been?!_ And who are you?!” 

This last part was directed at the Tidemakers, who eyed her nervously, then glanced at Kaz, unsure whether to answer. 

“Business,” Kaz replied curtly. His lips were looking a bit blue. His tone invited no further questions. 

Matthias immediately stripped from his own coat and went to throw it over Jesper’s shoulders. Wylan was there too, taking his hands and looking up at him with concerned blue eyes. 

“I’m okay,” he reassured his boyfriend, giving him a warm smile that he didn’t quite feel. “Just gotta dry off a bit; the sun will warm us up.” 

The two Tidemakers were introducing themselves to Inej; apparently they were members of the crew hired to accompany her on her journey. Jesper felt a startling surge of guilt at the information. Had he mistakenly killed people who were meant to travel with her as companions? He shot Kaz an anxious stare, but the leader of the Crows ignored him. 

“I got your note,” Inej told Kaz, sounding more than a little guarded. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you.” 

“Unpredictability is how we stay alive,” Kaz lectured. “Something you all could benefit to learn.” 

Jesper looked away, biting the inside of his cheek to stay quiet, too worn out to even be properly angry. 

“Have you got everything you need?” 

“I think so, yes.” 

Jesper pointedly stepped between them to give Inej a damp hug; it wasn’t like _Kaz_ was going to do it, and someone needed to. “You’d better come back safe,” he told her seriously. “I’ll be expecting you. Bring me back something sparkly.” 

She smiled back and laughed as he lifted her off her feet, then set her back down, giving the end of her braid a tug. “Of course. Wylan, don’t let Jes get into too much trouble while I’m gone.” 

“I try my best every day,” Wylan replied in a world-weary tone as everyone grinned. Then Nina brought a hand to her trembling lips, suddenly overcome with emotion. 

“Oh, 'Nej,” the tall woman exclaimed, enveloping her friend in her strong arms. “I love you, you impossible creature.” She glanced at the Tidemakers over the top of Inej’s head, scowling meaningfully. “If anything happens to her I will blame you personally.” 

They fidgeted uncomfortably as Inej smiled and rubbed Nina’s back fondly, then stepped back to kiss Wylan’s cheeks (he beamed, fair skin pinkening) and offer Matthias a friendly handshake. 

As members of her crew began arriving, Jesper saw her look around again, expectantly, but Kaz was already gone. He’d disappeared into the crowd before anybody could notice. _Bastard._

Nina was still crying when Inej left them to take her place at the helm, though she tried to conceal it with smile. “No mourners,” Inej reminded her gently. 

“No funerals,” they all echoed, even Matthias. 

They stood at the docks, waving long after the ship had become a speck on the horizon and the sun was high in the sky. 

“That sucked,” Nina grumbled, resting her head on Matthias’ shoulder. “I hate saying goodbye.” 

He stroked her hair consolingly, looking a little melancholy himself. 

“Waffles?” Wylan suggested hopefully, ever eager to cheer his friends up, but Nina shook her head, and Jesper avoided eye contact all around. 

“I just want to go home,” he sighed, and made for the carriage. 

… 

Kaz continued to be elusive in the weeks following Inej’s departure. Jesper tried to keep it in, and he wasn’t doing a terrible job of it, but the others knew him too well. They knew something was off in his smile, the way he laughed too loudly and told the funniest stories, how he was away at parties every night (though no parties that had any sort of gambling. Wylan had forbidden it, and he knew he was right.) 

He’d kissed a lot of girls and a few anonymous boys (Crow and otherwise), but had opted out of the weekly get-together his Crows held, claiming a headache, and was surprised when Matthias of all people stopped in the doorway of his and Wylan’s bedroom. In his slow and heavily accented Kerch he informed the sharpshooter, "We will always be here to listen if you wish to talk, my friend.” 

Jesper had blinked at him, a little stunned, and had managed an inadequate, “Hey thanks man, you too,” before feeling stupid and bolting for Inej’s room, empty save for her crate/chair and bed, which he promptly climbed into. Breathing the faint scent of oranges on her mattress, he gloomily watched the sun set through the dusty window, knowing he was being childish but unable to stop himself just the same. He’d get out of this funk, he knew it. But getting over feeling sorry for himself, mad at Kaz, and missing Inej would take time. 

He must have fallen asleep like that, because when he opened his eyes the stars were out and there was a cool breeze on his face and a crick in his neck. He stood and stretched, scratching absently at his arm before his groggy mind fit the pieces together. 

_The window hadn’t been open…_

Hastening to look outside, he thought he saw the tail end of a long black coat flick around the corner.


	3. Curiouser and Curiouser (Nina/Matthias)

It was still strange to enter a building through the front door, even when said building was, technically, her home.

As she unlocked the double doors of the Van Eck mansion, where she and Matthias were temporarily staying for the weeks leading up to their departure to Fjerda (they had practically lived there anyway, even before; there didn't seem to be much point remaining in crowded Dregs lodgings, which Matthias hated with a passion, and it wasn't as though Wylan was suffering any shortage of guest bedrooms) Nina Zenik couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected turns her life continued to take. 

From soldier to hostage to castaway, from lover to enemy and back again; through heists impossible and survival improbable she'd become rich beyond her wildest dreams and had known a love so true it dimmed the stars in comparison. She had never imagined a life with this much risk and this much joy. 

Today her step was quickened even further by the piece of parchment tucked safely in her coat pocket, made heavy by the burning need to be shared. "Everybody!" she called loudly, stepping inside and looking around expectantly. 

The entrance of the home lead directly to the parlor, which housed the impressive imperial staircase and boasted a collection of antique furniture, the pianoforte, and Wylan's flute, gleaming proudly on display. Though the casual observer might admire the plush carpeting, marble sculptures, and hanging tapestries as symbols of wealth, comfort, and grandeur, Nina appreciated the room for another reason entirely. Decadent trysts were held here on a regular basis, often with her at the center. If she closed her eyes she could almost still hear the moans, screams, and whines of pleasure from her boys and once, memorably, from her dear friend Inej. 

Today, however, no undressed and debauched boys writhed on the priceless furniture with lust in their eyes. In fact, the space was quite empty. Frowning in disappointment, Nina walked further into the mansion in search of her friends, hearing the heels on her boots echo slightly with each step. 

First she checked the largest bathroom, with the claw-footed bathtub that could (and sometimes did) hold up to three people, but saw no sign of Wylan massaging Jesper's shoulders with warm, scented oil. The tiles gleamed dully in the soft candlelight, clean, empty, and dry. 

Her luck didn't improve in the enormous dining room, large enough to comfortably seat and serve dozens in style. Not a single Crow was to be found in the crimson armchairs reading newspapers and hatching plots, recovering from injuries, or simply requiring a safe place to hide for a few days, though ever since he'd taken over his father's business Wylan had made it quite clear that his house was home to all members of the Dregs. 

The kitchen proved to be just as desolate, and she heard no signs of life from the miscellaneous rooms down either of the two corridors. She frowned, feeling very put out. Never before had she been here when it was empty, and it was just her luck that it happened on a day with such news to share! 

The upper floor yielded the same results. Even Inej's old bedroom, which Jesper had been spending a lot of time in since the Suli girl's departure, stood vacant. Nina finally conceded defeat. The likelihood of running into anybody in the basement or attic were too slim to bother, though she briefly entertained the idea of sussing out a few of Kaz's hiding spots, to ruin his day if for no other reason. It was just so disappointing. Good news was meant to be shared, and immediately! Why wasn't anyone around when she wanted them most? 

Deflated, she trudged to the bedroom she and Matthias shared and flung herself onto the window settee, preparing for a full-blown sulk. They'd all come home sooner or later, but in the meantime feeling sorry for herself was a fun way to pass the time. 

Movement outside caught her eye, and she glanced out the window to the garden, where a lone figure sat on a large flat rock, head tipped for the sun to warm her face and long hair flowing loosely down her back. Marya Hendriks, Wylan's mother, was a bit of an enigma to Nina. The frail but talented woman kept to herself for the most part, preferring her paints and the outdoors to company or conversation. Nina privately worried that some Barrell scoundrel would grow wise to her identity and snatch her away someday; Wylan would undoubtedly pay every cent he owned and plenty more that he didn't to ensure her safety. Perhaps Nina would suggest a guard the next time she saw the young Merchant. 

She watched Marya for a long while, but the older woman remained still. Nina wondered what she was thinking about, sitting so peacefully in the garden with the breeze rustling her hair and the ribbons on her dress and hat. It was a calming sight. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when, downstairs, the front door closed with a bang. Heart hammering, she rushed to the stairs to peer down below and saw the broad shoulders and shaggy blond hair of- 

"Matthias!" 

He startled, gaze flying up to meet hers, a hand already reaching over her shoulder for a shotgun that was not there when he recognized his partner and relaxed. "I didn't expect you to be home, my Nina." 

As always, when he spoke to and looked at her so warmly, Nina felt her heart swelling in her chest with affection and love. _Love._ Love! She loved this man, truly, madly, deeply. The storybooks and fairy tales hadn't prepared her at all for how it would feel, a quiet strength fortifying her, a pillar of support and like-minded pragmatism. 

He smiled now. "You're staring." 

It was true; she was. She seemed to do that a lot when he was around. "Am I? I think I like what I see." 

He ducked his head, suddenly bashful, and then it was her turn to grin wickedly. Teasing and flirting with him was entertainment at its highest: the littlest things still made him shy. 

“Quit smirking,” he mumbled petulantly to his boots. 

“I’m not,” she lied. 

“You are. I can hear it.” 

“Why don’t you come up here and make me stop, then?” she asked, and when he finally looked up at her, she stuck her tongue out at him and then darted, laughing, down the hall. 

His boots thundered up the stairs, three at a time, and in a moment he was chasing her down, catching her mid-air as she leapt for a door and spinning her triumphantly until she faced him. “Got you.” 

“Only because I _let_ you.” 

“And why did you do that, little red bird?” 

In response, she stood on her toes to press a sweet kiss to his lips, enjoying the light feel of stubble on her cheeks. No doubt he could feel the smile she still wore, but he didn’t seem to mind it as much. He deepened the kiss, squeezing the length of her body against his and dropping a hand to her bottom with a growl until her toes curled. 

“You know what I like best about you growing your hair back out?” She asked in Fjerdian, gasping for breath as she recovered from the onslaught of kisses, and he dragged his mouth down her jaw to her throat hungrily, breathing the words onto her skin. 

“Tell me.” 

“It gives me something to pull.” 

His eyes were darker when he looked smolderingly at her, a soft moan in his throat at her words. Nina felt so _wanted_ when he looked at her that way. 

“I like it when you pull my hair,” he replied. “It shows me where you want my mouth.” 

Now it was Nina’s turn to flush, pleasantly surprised. Dirty talk was not Matthias’ strong suit, even in his native tongue. It often tripped him up, set him at a loss. As a former drüskelle, he was better at _doing_ than _talk of doing._ That meant only one thing: he was trying it because he thought she’d like it. 

She rewarded him for his effective efforts by tangling her fingers in the golden strands and yanking his head down none-too-gently to her cleavage. “Is that so?” she asked conversationally, and he responded with great enthusiasm, wrapping his fingers around her ribcage and hoisting her body against the doorjamb, pinning her in place as he mouthed the tops of her large, soft breasts. 

Nina sighed happily and tipped her head back. She’d protested the first time he held her so- her weight was not inconsiderable- but had grown to trust his strength and now simply wrapped her legs around his waist to keep from slipping. 

He shifted her weight to free a hand, unlacing the back of her dress and slipping it from her shoulders. 

“You’re getting awfully good at that,” she remarked. 

“You’ve given me ample opportunity to practice.” His eyes glinted mischievously. 

She laughed out loud at this, stifling her snickers with the back of her hand, through her chest bounced from the effort. Teasing Matthias was fun, but it was even more fun when he teased back. 

“Are you _complaining,_ sir?” she asked, when she was more composed. 

“Oh no, madam, only that I seem to get a lot less sleep when you are around.” 

He brushed a pink nipple with his rough thumb and she hissed at the jolt that sent directly between her thighs. Smiling knowingly, he repeated the motion, then replaced his thumb with his lips. This time, when she tugged at his hair, she did so involuntarily. 

“Bed,” she demanded, already fumbling behind herself for the doorknob and shoving it open. “Now.” 

He stumbled backwards into the guest bedroom- fairly plain, containing only a silent grandfather clock and a covered portrait, both draped with dust cloths, several packing crates, and a naked bed in the center. It was the latter Matthias fell onto when his knees struck the mattress, and Nina held her breath as she landed on top of him, wondering if it could take their combined weight. The metal frame gave a mighty squeal, but held. 

Pleased, she turned her wicked smile down upon the man sprawled underneath her, taking in his disheveled hair and flushed face with some glee. 

“Uh-oh,” he muttered, knowing a scheming face when he saw one, and she kissed him until he was gasping and pawing for her, squeezing her tightly to him, shucking off the remainder of her dress and hooking his thumbs in her panties as she slid a palm from his chest to the front of his trousers. 

“I adore you,” he panted. “I worship you.” 

“I suppose you have to. Your holy tree blew up.” 

When he startled and looked up at her, Nina briefly worried she’d taken it too far, if it was too soon to make jokes about the loss of Djel’s sacred tree. Then the moment passed and he pressed his face into her sternum, shoulders quaking with suppressed laughter. 

“You are horrible, Nina Zenik. I’ll give you a holy tree,” he muttered, still laughing, and rolled her underneath him. 

The bed gave up long before they did. It made a horrible crunching noise sometime in the proceedings and sagged alarmingly in the middle, sliding sideways until the mattress was touching the floor. They paid it no mind. 

When, satiated and panting, they seperated, Nina closed her eyes and waited to catch her breath, her heart so astonishingly full that she wondered if it might burst. 

"You're glowing," Matthias whispered, kissing her temple. A little slap-happy, she couldn't help but giggle- not a tinkling bell of the seductively flirtatious, but a snorting hiccup of a laugh. 

"Why do you think that is?" she asked. "I love you. I'm in love with a crazy brute who gets my sense of humor and who's hung like a horse and-" 

“That’s always good to hear,” came a deep voice from the open doorway. 

Matthias swore loudly in Fjerdian and Nina sat up with a yelp, staring at Kaz, who cocked his head and raised a gloved hand in a half wave. He was standing against the doorway in what, to some, might look like a cocky slouch, but Nina suspected was instead a way to keep weight off his bad leg. She hadn’t heard him arrive: for all she knew, he’d been there the entire time. 

“Some child was sniffing around sixth harbor looking for me,” he said by way of explanation, seeming unbothered by their state of alarm or undress. “He insisted that some loudmouthed wench bearing the White Rose crest sent him. Of course I had to shut him up quickly, before the wrong ears overheard and someone got the wrong idea that I’m still alive and not rotting peacefully in my watery grave.” 

Nina, recovering more quickly than Matthias, scowled at the leader of the Dregs, unabashed and unafraid. “Did you kill my messenger boy?” 

She’d sent out a few; gangless Barrell children were always the best at finding those who wished to remain unfound; everyone knew that. They noticed the small, hidden places that others overlooked. “Brekker! He was only acting on my behalf. How was I to know you were playing dead again?” 

“Generally, Nina love, when I go missing, I do so _for a reason.”_

Well, she thought bitterly. Whatever reason it was, it’d really brought Jesper down. She could forgive Kaz much of his horseshit- he was, after all, a peerless leader who had yet to fail them- but whatever he’d done had hurt her friend in a quiet, unspoken way that still hollowed his laughter and emptied his eyes when he thought nobody was looking. 

When she continued staring at him expectantly, Kaz gave an impatient snort. “No, I didn’t kill your messenger boy. Or maim him, or kidnap him and tie him in a place nobody would ever find him. I simply convinced him to dissuade all his little friends from ever speaking my name again.” 

Nina sighed, and beside her, Matthias shifted slightly. They both knew that Kaz didn’t need physical force to get people to do his bidding. The boy was a demon in human skin; the words he wove were often powerful enough to achieve his ends. The boy was likely so traumatized from whatever Kaz had said that he’d never approach her for work again. 

“Well?” Kaz said impatiently. 

Nina blinked. “Well… what?” 

His jaw clenched in visible annoyance. “Well, _why_ were you asking for me? Is there a problem?” He looked disdainfully at their debauched state. “Apparently it wasn’t too terribly urgent,” he scoffed, and turned to go. 

Nina scrambled to gather her thoughts. 

“Wait, Kaz, wait wait wait.” She tried to clear the fog of an incredible series of orgasms from her head, dimly aware that she was forgetting something important. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at her. 

“Uh.” Clutching the sheet to her chest, she pointed at her and Matthias’ tangled pile of clothes. “Could you bring me my dress?” 

When he only arched an eyebrow and made no effort to do so, she rolled her eyes and stood to fetch it herself. It wasn’t anything Kaz hadn’t seen before anyway. She yanked the red satin back on over her head and heard a crinkle from one of the pockets. _Oh, right!_

“I was meaning to save this for the whole group to read together, but it’s probably mostly for you anyway,” she admitted begrudgingly. “But don’t run off with it! We want to read it too.” She pulled the parchment from her pocket and held it out, then sank back onto the remains of the bed. “The postman gave it to me today when I was at the wharf.” 

Sudden understanding dawned in Kaz’s eyes and he snatched the letter away, quick as a thief, and made to leave the room. 

“If you don’t bring it back I’ll…” she struggled to think of a suitable punishment. “I’ll convince Inej to dump you and marry me instead!” 

He was already gone. 

“Looks like I’m marrying you _and_ Inej,” Nina informed Matthias quietly. 

He considered this. “You do have excellent taste. But only if I can get a dog.” 

They shook hands. “The deal is the deal.” 

… 

Nina was in the kitchen helping peel potatoes for the Fårikål Matthias was boiling, low, on the gas stove, when people began to arrive home. The inviting aroma of simmering mutton and carrots drew out, not only Wylan on the way to his and Jesper's workroom, but Marya as well. 

Together mother and son stood in the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. When Matthias requested bread, Marya matter-of-factly stood on tiptoe to draw a heavy sack of flour from the pantry, an action that surprised Nina. She'd have thought the woman too aristocratic to be bothered learning to cook, but she was already adding water, salt, and yeast to a bowl with the practiced air of an expert. Wylan watched her curiously, then sat at the table across from her, speaking too low for Nina to hear over the bubbling of the stew pot. 

Jesper was last to return. When he leaned in to kiss Nina on the back of the neck, she detected whiffs of gunpowder, but no whiskey or cigarette smoke. That was good: so long as he was at the shooting range and not a bar, there was no gambling to worry about. 

Without being asked, he collected bowls and silverware from the cupboards, then set to slicing lemon and basil for garnish. The sight of them, her family, in such a domestic scene warmed Nina's heart. 

A handful of younger Dregs arrived too, looking excited for Matthias' cooking, and he silently added more potatoes to the pot to accommodate them all, then stepped aside for Marya to slide her quick-rising bread into the oven. 

Jesper and Wylan sat together between her and Matthias when it came time to sit for supper. Ever since they'd announced that they would soon be leaving for Fjerdia, to work on educating Fjerdans on Grisha rights, they'd become clingy. Nina didn't blame them: with Inej's having left weeks prior, it did feel like their family was breaking up, even if just for a while. She laced her fingers through Wylan's and kissed his freckled knuckles, watching Jesper lean slightly into Matthias' side. 

Kaz was sitting, cross-legged, on the kitchen counter when she went in for the tiny heart-shaped vatrushka cakes filled with sweet, creamy quark and studded with raisins- a Rakvan treat she'd baked and chilled herself- and she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of him. 

"Can you _please_ just knock, like a normal person?!" she found herself demanding, putting a hand over her pounding heart. "Or how about saying, 'Hey everybody, it's me, your creepy gang leader who disappears for weeks on end and lets you all fend for yourselves! I let myself in!'" 

He ignored her question. "Come upstairs," he demanded, lowering himself carefully from the countertop and striding for the hallway. "Bring Fahey." 

"Before _dessert?!"_ She detected the slightest hint of a whine in her voice, but didn't bother to quell it. Dessert was important! 

When he chose not to respond, she let out a frustrated groan, looked longingly at the tray of cakes, then popped her head into the dining room to call for Jesper before making her way up after him.

She was unsurprised to find him sitting on the edge of Inej's old bed, a shief of papers fanned out before him. The first half were written on thick, yellow parchment: Inej's handwriting. Though even Nina, with her background of lingual prowess, couldn't read the language, she recognized it to be in Suli. 

The second set of papers were white, crisp, and covered in Kaz's spidery Kerch writing; a translation. _When had he learned Suli...?_

Jesper loped easily up the stairs after her, then faltered when he saw Kaz in the room. "Oh, it's you," he said, and Nina detected a false note in his jovial voice. She wasn't an expert on body language, but she was an expert on Jesper, and knew her hunch had been right: that whatever had been so off about him lately was directly Kaz-related. Irritated at her leader, she shot him a glare and reached protectively for Jesper's hand. 

If Kaz detected the sudden frostiness in the air, he didn't let on. "I wanted to keep the letter for myself, but Ghafa directly forbade me to," he explained, his lip twitching in one corner in what might have been a smile. "I figured you can read this to Helvar and Van Eck later." 

A reasonable assumption. Though Matthias was coming along at leaps and bounds, he still struggled with picking up nuances of the Kerch language, and Wylan was unable to read at all. Intrigued despite herself, Nina sat cross-legged on the bed beside him and picked up Kaz's translation. Jesper remained standing staunchly at her side, though he released her hand. 

_"My dearest friends,"_ Nina read aloud, and smiled softly. _"I write to you from the Wandering Isle, where my crew and I have stopped to wait out a tropical storm. It's beautiful here. Wylan would love the street music."_

Jesper grinned, shifting closer to read over her shoulder. _"As to my success or otherwise regarding my original mission, I can't go into too much detail lest this letter be intercepted-"_ he paused. "Not too many people in Ketterdam can read that language, though..." 

Nina knew what he was thinking: there was some possibility that this was code from Inej. Was she being watched? Followed? 

_"-but suffice it to say I am satisfied with my work here."_

Nina turned over the page of Kaz's translation. It was shorter than it should have been, if the amount of pages he held were to go by. "You left some of it out," she accused. 

"Some of it is just for me," he replied. It was an unsatisfying response. If it had been accompanied by a blush or a sheepish smile, Nina could have accepted that he was keeping pages of her love to himself. But his face remained blank and stoic as a slab of marble. 

_"Know that you are all in my thoughts, and I will be returning home before the leaves change again,"_ Jesper read the end of the abridged letter. _"Give my love to Nina, Matthias, Wylan, and Jesper. Take care of yourselves; you are treasures no gold could buy."_

"That last bit was a bit difficult to translate," Kaz admitted. "There was a pun in it. The word she used for 'treasure' also means 'present', so it was a proverb about friendship being a priceless gift." 

"How like her." 

_"With love from your ever-faithful captain Inej."_ Nina noticed that Kaz had used more careful handwriting on her name than he had the rest of the text, swooping the I and the J so that they were connected by a thin line. "That's it?" 

"Yeah," Jesper mumbled. She'd told them nothing at all or, if she had, Kaz wasn't letting them see it. "Can you show us the original? I want to see what my name looks like in Suli." 

"No," Kaz said sharply, and stood, tucking the yellowed parchment into his coat. "I've spent too much time here already. I have somewhere I need to be." 

Nina made a sound of protest; Jesper was already scurrying to block Inej's window. Taking his cue, Nina sidestepped in front of the door. "That's not fair, Kaz. You're not telling us everything. What's wrong?" 

Kaz looked back and forth between them, the same eyebrow he'd arched earlier rising into his hairline. "What's this?" he asked, voice smooth and dark as cocoa. "I go to all the trouble of bringing you word from her and it's not enough? I suppose I shouldn't have bothered." 

"You could _stay,"_ Jesper blurted out, as Kaz reached for his cane. "You don't always have to be leaving. The most we ever see of you is your back. Aren't you supposed to be _ours?_ Do you even care about us at all?" 

There was such vehemence in his voice, the words tumbling out one after another like steam pressure escaping a bottle, that Nina turned to look at him, quite surprised. His hands were balled into fists at his sides and he was staring at the window, avoiding her gaze as well as Kaz's.

Kaz watched him for a long time. "If I didn't care, I wouldn't be risking everything for my Dregs. I do what I do for the group. Do you or do you not trust me?" 

Something was happening that Nina didn't understand. Something had been happening for a while now. Kaz's extended disappearances, Jesper's moodiness as of late, and now the heavily censored letter from Inej. _Something wasn't right._ She had a bad feeling in her stomach, and it wasn't the mutton. 

"Brekker... are we in trouble?" she asked warily. If they were about to be attacked by rival gangs, she thought she ought to be in the know! 

"No more so than usual." He stepped close, closer, invading her space. Her suspicions had all but been confirmed when it came to Kaz's limits on human contact when he'd let his guard down at the orgy Inej attended, and she knew that a finger on his neck would send him recoiling in horror. "Move or be moved, Zenik." 

She considered shoving him back, disorienting him with an open palm on his face and stuffing a hand into his jacket to retrieve the letter. She was good with languages, how hard could it be to interpret the damn thing herself? 

"I vote you tell us what's going on," she said. She was taller than he in these heels, and she stretched herself out to prove it. 

"Thankfully for me, this is not a democracy. _Move."_

"No!" 

He whirled on his heel, approaching Jesper, who looked panicked and faintly green in the face at his sudden proximity. "Remember what we discussed about interfering, Fahey," he threw the words out like cold water meant to shock and drench, and he did so with the confidence of a cage fighter knowing his first strike would lead to victory. Jesper withered instantly, and Kaz forced the window open and grabbed for the weather-vane, balancing his cane on his forearms as he climbed down. 

"What in Ghezin's name," Nina mumbled in bewilderment, watching him go, watching Jesper slump, defeated. "What is _happening to my gang?!"_

.


	4. Creeping Suspicion (Kaz)

He was swallowed in claustrophobic darkness and swayed with the gentle rocking of the gondola. Beside him crouched two broad-shouldered Grisha, so cloaked and shrouded that anything but their general shape was impossible to determine. One of the figures held a large metal box with a rainbow of copper wires sprouting from the top, which made low clicking noises and released the occasional hiss of static as he fussed with it.

"Are you sure that thing is working?" Kaz hissed, when he could no longer bear the scent of stagnant water, the press of bodies on either side of him, in silence. His skin was crawling as though infused with shimmering, twitching insects. If he’d gone to all this trouble for nothing… 

"It will, it will," the Durast holding the box insisted, long fingers working with the protruding wires and metallic dials. "I just have to get it in the _right..."_

Sound abruptly filled the echoing chamber inside which the three hid, so abrupt they all jumped. Loud chattering voices could be made out amidst the clink of glasses and silverware. Water sloshed over the edge of their small, stolen boat, soaking Kaz's boots. He swore at the sensation but cocked his head and tried to keep his focus, tried to make out individual voices in the babble. 

The Durast, a bulky young Rakvan named Shastin, pinched three sparking wires together and held them underneath Kaz's chin. Although the whole thing looked like a safety hazard, Kaz leaned forward and spoke into them, ignoring the smell of burning plastic as he did so. 

"Vex." 

"I hear you, boss," a raspy male voice emanated from inside the communicator. This voice sounded much closer than the others. Kaz smiled, thin-lipped and wry. So his replacement spider-in-training had made a successful vertical climb after all. Wonders never ceased. 

"Can you get any closer? I can't make out what anyone's saying." 

"On it." 

Kaz closed his eyes and tried to picture what Vex was doing. The thin, long-legged boy was surely clinging to the window outside which their quarry gathered, five stories high in the dilapidated and condemned building, his own communicator box strapped, heavy and cumbersome (Shastin were still refining the design) to his narrow shoulders. 

The voices that teased underneath the static gradually grew louder and then were suddenly as clear as if the people speaking had been huddling in the covered portion of the arterial canal with them. 

From underneath his hood, Kaz saw Shastin's lips quirk in a triumphant grin. The communicator was his baby, the invention upon which he heaped all his time, money, and effort. It must have been thrilling to see it successfully in action. 

"Pass me the red wine, would you, Connie dear?" came a simpering female voice. Kaz could hear the faint sound of liquid glugging from a bottle, of a bottle being set on a wooden surface. "Thank you. As I was saying, the letter from Jada confirms our suspicions. The Wraith is free and dishonoring Tante's name." 

Kaz's heart tightened into a fist in his chest. It seemed they'd tuned into the now jobless ex-Menagerie girls at just the right time. He knew Connie, leggy and fair-haired; she was a favorite of the late Tante Heleen and had at one time been considered most likely to one day inherit the pleasure house herself when she grew too old to draw customers. She, more than any of them, had the most reason to want his head on a pike. 

The speaker, however, he could not immediately place. The accent was a pure, generic Kerch, and the connection was crackly at best. 

"And they're still being held on the Wandering Isle?" piped a youthful voice that could only have been Bokamoso, the sweet-faced Zemini "representative" he'd been forced to encounter in suggestive fawn's spots more often than he'd like; she was so young and small that it still turned his stomach thinking of strange men on top of her. It reminded him too much of the Wraith's origins. 

The sound quality faded in and out, not enough to prevent them from hearing what was being said, but enough to be noticeable. Although wary of the sparks fizzing and dancing about the device like pyrotechnic grasshoppers threatening to immolate his eyebrows, Kaz could not tear himself away from the machine as he focused all his attention on the illicit information they’d worked so hard to overhear. 

"Yes. Jada is under strict orders to prevent further voyage at all costs. As soon as we get ahold of that simple-minded merchant's brainless mother and his little Zemini _pet_... What was that?" 

Kaz's shoulders shot up to his ears, suddenly very tense. The motion made the water again lap gently over the sides of the gondola and he cursed himself for expressing his feelings so openly: just because it was dark didn't mean he was in the clear. 

"Vex," he hissed into the wire. "Come down _now._ Abandon mission." 

"On it." 

The spider sounded nervous; Kaz heard the scrape of gloved hands on stone as he lowered himself from the wall he clung to; a perfect ninety degree angle of smooth cement that his fingerless gloves somehow managed to find purchase in. 

“Time to go,” Kaz told Shastin, who frowned in disappointment but put his communicator box down and took up his oars, dutifully maneuvering them from covered canal to open stream. The mission had been delicate from the start; it would have been easier if Kaz had just sent Vex up to spy and report back what he’d learned, but Shastin had so wanted to test out his project, and Vex, enthusiastic as ever, had practically begged to be allowed to help. Kaz knew that with any business, change was necessary, and clinging to old ways instead of keeping his gang always one jump ahead of the curve was how to survive, but as Jesper could attest, not all gambles paid off. 

They emerged from the covering, tipping forward just slightly as they entered into the main port that stretched the length of the province, where all rainwater was caught, strained, and stored for human use. In this dilapidated part of Ketterdam where no tourist dared tread, traveling was done by gondola instead of carriage. The waterways ran like veins throughout, weaving in and out and underneath crumbling buildings full of vermin as much as people, and it was where Kaz had managed to track down Tante Heleen’s girls. 

Now that Vex was no longer stationary, the sound quality quickly went downhill- another bug Shastin would later have to work out. Kaz bitterly hoped this night was good for his _research,_ because otherwise it was not what he’d determine a success. 

_“-ink – it was- outside-“_ here a great, ear-splitting burst of static, and then, _“-indow!”_

“Oh shit,” Vex muttered. 

Lit only by widely-spaced gas lamps at the edge of the walkway- supposedly to keep drunkards from collapsing in the canal and further polluting the water supply- Kaz focused hard on the building they'd been staking out, but couldn't make much out. 

“I see him,” Shastin declared, pointing. Kaz followed his indication up the side of a building, where a speck of a boy in black appeared to be stuck. 

“What’s the problem?” Kaz started to ask, but it was already too late. From the window, even in the darkness, he could see a vaguely feminine figure lean out, the barrel of a shotgun clutched in both hands. 

Kaz bit back the instinct to shout Vex's attention; the canal was covered by a miasma of polluted smog, and it was likely their presence would be difficult to see from where the girls stood, if only they didn't draw attention. 

There was the thunderous boom of a gunshot, the kickback of the gun so strong that the girl holding it fell backwards. It had been a big gun, the kind with slugs; the kind that left more of a gaping _void,_ an absence of person, than an exit wound. 

“Has he been hit?” Kaz asked urgently, eyes trained on his spider, who was freefalling, tumbling, head over heels, too frightened, or too injured, or too _dead_ to even scream. Shastin swore softly and raised his hands- there was no visible change but, Kaz presumed, he was disconnecting some electrical current before machine hit water. 

To his left, the Grisha called Klara tossed her sleeves back with a flick of her wrists, her veiny hands extended in a _halt_ gesture to concentrate the air around the falling spider, slowing and cushioning his fall. The splash of impact as boy hit water was barely a ripple. 

"Oh, hell..." Kaz mumbled, watching the water where Vex had sunk. He did not reappear. Shucking off his boots and coat, he dove from the gondola and into the canal, trying not to think of the centuries of corpses and worse that no doubt filled its murky depths as he propelled himself towards where he'd seen Vex sink. Kaz was a strong swimmer, graceful in water, his damaged leg less of a burden than it was on land, and in seconds he had his arm hooked around the scrawny chest of the boy. 

Although he tried to drag Vex back up to the surface, something was holding him down. Blindly, he felt along the boys body, shuddering involuntarily when he accidentally brushed skin, and realized that the strap of the communication device had snagged on some unseen, underwater debris. Wrapping his gloved hand around Vex's shoulder for stability he planted his feet and struggled to push the tangled contraption off. 

Something hot streamed past his face, and he jolted when his brain numbly informed him what it was: a bullet. The Menagerie girls were still shooting into the water. _No time for that now,_ he reminded himself sternly. If he panicked, then they were both screwed. 

From his sleeve he withdrew a small, serrated knife. Hacking at the leather strap (and grazing Vex in the process) he managed to pull him free. He kicked hard and gasped for breath when cold air met his face, then flipped onto his back, half pulling Vex onto his chest. Wet hair brushed his nose and this time he _did_ gag, feeling bile pool in his mouth. 

_Keep it together, Brekker._ This wasn't the same as... _He was not holding a corpse. He was not. He was_ not! 

It was too dark to see well; the light of the moon invisible from where they floated. The only light was a small yellow square of electric light reflecting on the black water from the open, window above; no Menagerie girls were in sight, which was a bad sign. It was better to see the trouble than to wonder at its absence. 

"Vex," he snarled, and gave the boy a shake rough enough to slosh the water loudly around them. "Vex wake up, wake the _fuck_ up..." If he heard a trace of panic in his own voice, well, that was between him and the smooth, tall walls of the canal. 

There was no response. If Vex was breathing, Kaz couldn’t hear it. If Vex died tonight, it would be his _fault._ Vex had been just another Barrell boy; street performer by day and turning tricks by night for food and shelter when Kaz’s scouts stumbled across him, reporting flexibility and an almost reptilian ability to cling to vertical surfaces. Kaz had spent much time spying and deliberating on whether to approach him on being a Spider for the Dregs. It'd been a worthwhile gamble: he was no Wraith, but he was getting better by the day. Now that he owned the Dregs, the occasional, inevitable loss felt like a condemning finger from hell pointing straight at him. _You did this. You._

“Vex, please…” 

He was abruptly gripped by the elbow, and he held tight to Vex as Shastin hauled them both on board, inelegantly dumping the duo onto the bottom of the gondola like so many netted fish. Kaz scrambled out from under Vex, wild-eyed, and once reseated, attempted to calm his pounding heart and trembling hands before anyone could notice. 

They sat in silence for some time as Klara directed wind to push the gondola along the canal at a rapid speed, somehow knowing the twists and turns of the waterway well enough to avoid crashing. Finally she spoke. 

"Is he dead?" 

Shastin, who had his fingers pressed to the boy's throat, responded: "Not yet." 

There was another silence. 

"I don't suppose you managed to recover the communication device?" 

This time it was Kaz's turn to shake his head. He heard Shastin ground his teeth in annoyance, even over the rushing of wind resistance and canal water and, farther away, a third blast of the shotgun. 

"The girls?" Kaz finally asked, forcing his teeth not to chatter. 

"Scattered," Klara replied. "I think they thought we were more armed than we are. No telling what they figured out, though." 

They reached a dead end, the grate between which canal met ocean. Climbing out of the gondola, Shastin held his arms out and Kaz lifted Vex up to him, then climbed to the wet concrete himself. He waited until Klara had passed him his cane, steadying his own balance, before he took her hand in his gloved one and helped her stand. 

As soon as the three of them were on solid ground, Shastin lifted his free hand. As they watched, the metal siding, nails, and screws of the gondola constricted, folded, crumpling in on itself until the vessel was too top-heavy to float and sank quickly into the canal, gone from sight. Then, together, they began walking towards the direction of a main road. 

It wasn't until they reached a gaslight that they stopped to assess the still boy in Shastin's arms. His face was covered in shining blood, so dark it looked like oil in the dim light, and it was clear why: his ear, mangled and mutilated, dangled by about half an inch of sinew. 

It was a mark of their profession that none of them recoiled or gagged at the grisly sight. 

"The slug must have just grazed him," Klara remarked, sounding awed. "It's an absolute miracle it isn’t worse.” 

"I'm more concerned about the effect of canal water on an open wound," Kaz replied. "Come on. Let's get him to-" 

He almost said _Zenik,_ then fell silent. Nina and Matthias had left for Fjerda days ago, and even if they hadn't, she wasn't the healer she had been. She hadn't much discussed her new abilities with him, but he suspected they would not help them now. 

Her departure had frustrated him greatly, more than he wanted to let on. Matthias, he had no hold over, but Nina was _his._ She wore the Dregs' mark, and he owned the Dregs now. He had half a mind to send someone after her; how dare she leave without conferring with him?! He should make a public example of her punishment. He should... 

But already his mind resisted the thought. She would come back. He would have some words with her. He had known she was leaving, and had let her walk. He told himself he didn’t need to go to the trouble, that it would be a waste of resources. In his mind, Pekka Rollins laughed at him. _Go soft on one of your own,_ boy, _and soon they'll all be walking all over you._

He felt his control slipping when it came to her, Jesper, and Wylan. Inej was a free woman now; he'd worked hard to make that so, but the other three, beholden to him as they were, no longer feared him in the reverential manner they should. He tried not to feel like a child wearing an adult's shoes. 

"Take him to the den," he decided, meaning the gentlemen's club underneath which a number of the older Dregs called home. "There's a healer there. Red hair, skinny. You'll probably find her working the tables." 

Shastin nodded. Though not Dregs, the Grisha recommended by Nina herself had proved trustworthy several times over. Kaz intended to offer them the official title soon. He wouldn't trust just _anyone_ with a helpless and injured Dregs child. 

"Your payment for this job will be waiting for you at your addresses," he told them, though they hadn't asked. "And Shastin. I'm sending you extra to reimburse you for the comm. Keep working on it." 

The big Durast shot him a grateful smile, and then he and Klara were heading off, disappearing into the heavy smog rising from the canal waters. 

Kaz watched them go, then turned his back, making a brisk and direct route to central Ketterdam. There was simply no time for side streets and the potential for hassle from a rival gang; he had to move _fast._ He willfully pushed the complaints of his over-strained leg, fatigued body, and growling stomach from his mind as he forced a long-legged stride over cobblestoned streets, the overheard words from the ex-Menagerie girls echoing in his mind. 

Fahey was in danger. _Marya_ was in danger. Ghafa, though no longer his concern, remained at the forefront of his mind as his greatest worry. 

This was, to some degree, Jesper’s fault. Had he simply not interfered in Kaz’s plans the night of Inej’s departure, none of this would have happened. Heleen, despicable creature that she was, would have been his to deal with in his own due time. He could have faked a perfect death and gone missing entirely. But his ruse had been figured out the first time Jesper was seen mingling in clubs and towns, chatting up pretty girls and boys alike. The boy simply didn’t know how to keep a low profile. If he’d survived the attack of Tidemakers, the vengeful Menagerie girls determined, then so must have Kaz. Knowing this, they would not stop looking for him until they found him. 

He encountered no trouble on his path, though the sky was distinctly more encroaching-dawn gray than the dead-of-night black it had been not forty minutes before. They'd been out all night, again. 

Kaz felt far older than his nineteen years, and at the same time, still too young. And more than that, he felt an aching loneliness. He couldn't have imagined how much he would miss the perpetual, silent shadow of his Wraith, and it ate at him hungrily. His revenge, though sweet, had left him hollow. He'd achieved everything he'd ever wanted and still felt empty. 

The Van Eck mansion loomed, gaudy and unattached to any other home, despite Ketterdam as a whole being too small for such structures. True wealth was measured by width; rich people could afford to build _up,_ but it took the obscenely wealthy to afford enough limited land to build _out._ The house was a monster, and as Kaz let himself in through the back door and breathed in deeply, was beginning to carry the comfortable smell of home. 

This was both foolish and dangerous. The streets of Ketterdam were _home._ To think of a building as a place safe enough to relax in could get a man killed. 

He hurried upstairs, stopping only to grab a chicken leg from the ice box as he went. The taste of the cold, meaty grease on his tongue jogged his tired senses into a more alert state. Wylan's bedroom was at the end of the second floor, and the door was slightly ajar. Kaz let himself in, then stopped. 

The room was dark, lit only by a few dying candles on the armoire. Sprawled over three quarters of the king-sized bed was gangly Jesper, flat on his stomach with his face to the side. Kaz could only assume the ball-shaped lump under the blankets to his right was Wylan. The former was clearly naked, modesty only covered by a corner of the bedsheet. The room smelled, not unpleasantly so, of sex and candle smoke. 

Kaz wanted to curl up on the foot of their bed and sleep. He wanted to tuck Wylan's wild curls from his face. He wanted to slide between them and kiss Jesper awake, softly, like something out of a fairy tale. 

He may as well have wanted to fly. 

Thinking this, the urge to grab one of Jes' pearl-handled guns from the night table and shoot the both of them for the confusing ambiguity he'd felt around them ever since _that_ night reared its ugly head. The last time someone had made him feel so many things at once, he'd bought her freedom and sent her off on her own ship, and look where that had gotten her. 

He didn't have time for this, these feelings and distractions. 

Leaving without doing anything at all, he instead went across the hall into the guest bathroom and started when he saw his pale reflection staring back at him. He was wet and grimy, and both his face and clothes were streaked in blood and other, more unpleasant muck. He had a quick wash in the tub, using a mint-scented soap that smelled faintly of Matthias, and stopped to grab some clothes from one of his hiding spots, pulling crumpled paper covered in tiny, neat Suli writing from the other. 

Inej's coded letters; thinly veiled warnings and one devastating cry for help. His stomach lurched with indecision. Much as he wanted to throw all his responsibilities to the wind and hop on the next ship to her aid, he simply _couldn't._ He was needed here. The fact that she knew that and had still asked was extremely worrisome. 

He went downstairs. 

Marya's bedroom was small, but it had a rear-facing window towards the garden she so loved. Kaz wasn't expecting an immediate response as he gently rapped his gloved knuckles on her door, and so he jumped a little as the door creaked open and he found himself looking into a pair of dreamy gray eyes. 

He cleared his throat, quickly recovering his composure. "Good morning, Mz. Hendriks." He wondered if she remembered him. They hadn't interacted much in the past, and she wasn't always all there. 

She stared at him blankly for a second too long. His neck hurt from looking down at her; she was not a tall woman. Her hair was lighter than Wylan's auburn curls; a carroty orange shot through with gray tumbling loosely down her back. She wore a pale yellow nightgown embroidered with small roses, and her stubby fingernails were streaked with dried paint. 

"Have you come to watch the sunrise with me?" she asked. 

Kaz considered this, and then nodded. "Yes, I suppose I have." 

"Well, you'd better come in then. It's about to start." 

A little bemused, he followed the young merchant's mother into her bedroom. It wasn't much: a twin-sized bed covered with a soft-looking patchwork quilt; a jar of dried primroses on her side table. An easel sat at the far right, no doubt to capture the maximum sunlight from the window, and many canvases were leaned, face-down, against the wall. 

He came to stand next to the woman in front of the window. The gray sky had lightened even further; the sun would be over the clouds soon. They looked in silence for some time. 

Then- 

"I'm rather angry with you, you know," she said conversationally, not taking her eyes from the window. 

"W-what?" Kaz Brekker _never_ stuttered. He cleared his throat. "Why are you angry with me?" 

He turned to look at her, but she only stared resolutely out the window; a band of dawn light was stretching across her eyes. Her silhouette- upturned nose, short, thick ginger lashes, a smattering of freckles across her cheekbones- closely resembled her son's. 

"You've been playing with hearts, Mr. Brekker." 

Ah, so she did remember him. "Mz. Hendriks, I haven't done anything to Wylan," he told her gently, in case she was having a confused moment. But she shook her head, mane of curls flying in vigor. 

"No. Not my son. The other boy, the tall one." 

Incredible. She could remember _his_ name, but not the name of the boy sharing a roof with her. 

"You mean Jesper," he supplied. It wasn't a question. 

"He's in love with you." This, too, was submitted in the form of a statement. 

"He'll get over it." This was _not_ a conversation Kaz wanted to be having. "Listen, Marya-" 

"Shh!" she hushed him abruptly, raising a hand. She was focusing intently, and he turned to follow her gaze. The first white beam of sunlight was rising above the horizon, staining the sky a dull red. 

Kaz had to admit he'd never paid much attention to a sunrise except as a means to gauge time. Even now, he felt nothing more than the pressing urge to _go,_ that time was of the essence. He thought Inej might be the type to find meaning in sunrise-watching with crazy women, but it was certainly not his forte. 

He gave her a silent moment before speaking again. "Mz. Hendriks, I want to show you something." 

This time, she looked directly at him as he unfolded the letter, and its translation, from his pocket. "Do you remember Inej?" 

Saying her given name out loud would never cease to feel strange. 

"The Suli girl," Marya supplied, and Kaz nodded. She seemed more coherent than when Wylan had first brought her home. Clearly her son, her garden, her _freedom_ were doing her good. 

Kaz nodded. "She's in danger." 

"She's not yours anymore." 

Again, those fathomless gray eyes were catching him off guard. She was much, much sharper than he'd given her credit for. 

"She was never _really_ mine to begin with," he explained. "But she's in trouble. One of her crew members turned on her and is keeping her and the rest of the crew trapped on the Wandering Isle."

Marya took the papers from his hands, frowning, then her eyes creased in sadness. "And you can't go to her," she remarked knowingly. 

"I- no. I can't." He'd puzzled it over in his mind a thousand times, but he just could not leave Ketterdam. He could not leave the Dregs, newly his, to their own devices for however long it would take to get Inej back. That would have been irredeemably unfair to them, having just taken on such a responsibility only to immediately abandon them for an outsider. 

"Why are you showing me this?" Marya asked, this time meeting his eyes; her gray ones looked very clear and alert. 

Kaz wet his lower lip. "Because I'm going to kidnap you," he explained.


	5. Captain's Log (Wylan/Jesper)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wylan and Jes embark on a voyage to save Marya. Wylan needs some cheering up. Tooth-rotting fluff 'n smut ahead.

Wylan Van Eck was furious. Though small and undeniably cute, one look at his face had hired crew members scurrying nervously out of his way as he stood at the bough of their ship, opting instead to speak to Jesper, who co-headed the expedition.

The sharpshooter in question offered them a wry shrug and answered their questions to the best of his ability. "What can you expect?" he asked. "His _mother_ was kidnapped. I wouldn't be in the best of moods, either." 

Wylan had spent a good amount of kruge assembling a crew for the weeks-long voyage to the Wandering Isle, after paying even more to hear Barrell children tell tales of someone who had told someone else who had told _them_ that they saw Kaz Brekker leading a redheaded lady onto a cargo ship on an early spring morning. 

"She was knocked _out_ and he was carrying her like a princess," gasped one wide-eyed pre-teen. 

"No she weren't, she walked beside him in ropes like a dog," scornfully contradicted another, in her dress of gray rags. 

"Are you daft? He rolled her to the docks in a milk trolley! I seen him myself, with his gloves and his cane and his razor-sharp teeth!" insisted a third, the oldest and, in her opinion, the most worldly and knowledgeable. 

Whichever of these rumors held the most truth, despite fabrications on Kaz's anatomy, what could be verified was this: Two last-minute passengers had paid full travel fare on a ship loaded heavy with bartering goods destined for Ceodearg, a large trading town on the isle. Wylan's mother was missing, her bed made and her laundry cheerfully folded as though she were just out for a morning stroll. Kaz, too, was not available for commentary. 

"That _bastard,"_ Wylan had snarled, on more than one occasion. "First he kidnaps my step-mother, now my _mom?!"_

Jesper had rubbed his shoulders and said the right, soothing things, but privately thought that Marya was in about as much danger as Alys had been. Kaz's schemes rarely made sense to any not directly involved, but Jesper had learned to assume he knew what he was doing. He may be ruthless, but Jes couldn't see him injuring a mentally ill, middle-aged woman like Marya. 

So he ran the ship, and gave orders. He fixed Wylan simple meals of rice and broth when the rolling of the sea became too much on his sensitive stomach, and when he got sick, Jesper rubbed the pressure points of his face with cool fingers, massaged lavender-scented oil into his carroty curls. 

"Why do you tolerate me?" Wylan moaned one night, when the sea had finally calmed to a still state, smooth as black glass reflecting the ship and the moon above. 

Jesper looked up from the book he'd been paging idly trough- though not big on reading, boredom suited him even less- and raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend, who's face was puffy and eyes reddened from illness. He looked miserable. 

"If you really don't know the answer to that by now," he said. "Then I've been doing a terrible job these past few weeks." 

"Ugh." Wylan threw an arm over his eyes. "I know, I _know;_ you love me. I just don't know _why."_

"You shouldn't fish for compliments," Jesper teased, but when he saw how morose Wylan truly was, he lost his jackal-like smirk. "Hey. Look at me." he said, more sober now, and set his book aside. 

A single blue eye peeped out at him from between freckled fingers. Jesper stood from his chair, walked across the captain's quarters, and knelt at the foot of the bed where Wylan was curled. "Wylan Van Eck," he said firmly, and put his hands on his hips. 

Wylan moved more fingers aside, until both eyes were visible. 

"I love you," Jesper declared, meeting those eyes. When they blinked, startled and long-lashed, he dove for the kill, leaning until an arm rested beside each of Wylan's shoulders and bracing his weight on them, so he loomed partially on top of him. 

"I'll love you even when you get that old-man chest hair, and your belly gets all round and flabby." He pinched Wylan's sides and the other man had to cover his mouth to stifle a giggle. 

"I'm not gonna-" Wylan protested, but he was laughing too hard to finish his sentence. 

"And even when you lose all your hair-" Jesper continued loudly, pushing back Wylan's curls to leave his forehead bare. "And you're just a squishy white billiard ball, I'll still love you. I'll still think you're the sexiest thing in the whole wide world, because love makes people crazy and I love you a whole damn, crazy lot. So what if you're not feeling awesome right now? You're always helping me. Now it's my time to take care of you. We'll get this sorted out; I promise." 

Wylan tried to glare, but the smile was trapped inside him, uncontainable. It beamed from his eyes, his skin, his twitching lip. "Fine," he retorted. "Then I'll love you when your nose hair grows a foot long and you get a wrinkle here-" he drew a thumb gently across the length of Jesper's forehead. "And _here."_ He ran both index fingers in parenthesis surrounding Jesper's mouth. 

Jesper drew back with a mock-offended gasp. "I most certainly will _not_ be a wrinkly-" 

"Oh yes you will; I've seen your father," Wylan wasn't even trying to suppress his giggles anymore; he curled in on himself, shoulders shaking and tears of mirth shining in the corners of his eyes. "You'll be my favorite wrinkly old man, and I'll love you all the more for it." 

Jesper rolled his eyes and grinned; then, taking Wylan's hand that still cupped his cheek, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to his palm. "You're there for me when I need you most," he told his boyfriend, with great warmth in his voice. "Let me be here for you now." 

Wylan's cheeks pinked, and he nodded, understanding at last. He reached for Jesper, and Jesper was powerless to resist, allowing himself to be pulled into freckly, loving arms, nosing at the salty skin of Wylan's throat and catching the faintest hint of lavender still clinging to his hair. "My sweet boy," he rumbled softly- an affectionate name he'd never use outside of the privacy of their own room; something unbearably cheesy that he'd be teased for mercilessly if anyone else heard it. 

Wylan released the rumbly sound of a happy kitten, balling up in Jesper's arms, and Jesper squeezed him tight, lowering his head to mouth at the nearest ear and then tugging on it with his lips. 

Wylan's rumble-purrs hitched in his throat, and after a moment's hesitation, he'd angled his head in Jesper's direction, a clear incentive for more. Jesper grinned, and obligingly rasped his tongue over the length of Wylan's ear before lightly blowing a cool breath onto it. Wylan shivered. He was so responsive, it brought out Jesper's urge to pounce. He tried to reign it in, aware that Wylan wasn't feeling especially well. 

He forgot to continue reigning it in, however, when within his arms, Wylan rolled onto his back so that he could look up at Jesper with hooded blue eyes- bedroom eyes. 

Jesper's pulse jumped. He knew that look. 

"You are unbearably sexy," he told Wylan, crouching over him and crushing his springy red curls as he cupped his jaw. "And you're mine." 

Now it was Wylan's turn to smile. Though both men were aware that such possessive language was reserved only for the bedroom and would not be tolerated in day-to-day life, it certainly got a rise out of both of them now. "Yours, huh?" Wylan's arm came around Jesper's back, resting innocently on his shoulder, before Jesper felt his fingernails lightly scritch into the back of his neck in a way that made him crazy for it. Wylan spread his knees, almost imperceptibly. "I'm not so sure about that. You gonna _make_ me yours?" 

Jesper narrowed his lovely, icy eyes, and growled at the provocative challenge in his boyfriend's tone. Within seconds, both of Wylan's wrists were pinned to the bed and he was being kissed with such hungry energy that he moaned loudly, arching his back and closing his eyes as he struggled to free a hand, to cup the back of Jesper's head and control the kiss, but there was no breaking away from such wiry muscles. His legs fell apart even further, bracketing Jesper's body and drawing him in. He was making a whining keen that he'd have been embarrassed beyond belief should anyone else have heard, but this was _Jesper._ Sweet, loving, perfect Jes whom he loved and trusted with all his heart, and it was with him alone that he could truly, completely let go. 

He broke the kiss by tilting his head to the side, panting, aware that his erection was pressing into Jesper's stomach. "Jes, please," he gasped. "I want you. Please touch me." 

He felt Jesper's sharp-toothed grin against his cheekbone. "I am touching you, sweet boy," Jesper informed him, and he was unable to hold back a groan of annoyance and frustration. 

_"Jes,_ stop teasing." 

"Aw, but it's my favorite hobby!" The grin was growing, and he pouted, causing a rumbly, warm, belly-laugh from the man on top of him. One of his wrists was released in favor of a knuckle tilting his face back around so that Jesper could kiss him tenderly on the lips, an apology. "Sorry, Wy. You're just so much fun to mess with. I'll be nice." 

He kissed his way down Wylan's cheek and jaw, laving special attention on his Adam's apple with a rough flick of his flexible tongue, and then he was tugging at Wylan's button-down shirt with his teeth. Sitting astride Wyan's hips, he ground his own against Wylan's clothed erection, which strained taut in his trousers. Wylan bucked against him with a keen that Jesper silenced by sliding a single thumb into his mouth. Now Wylan's hands were free, and they grasped white-knuckled at the blankets underneath him.

Jesper peppered Wylan's skin with kisses as he unbuttoned his shirt, down his sternum and over his belly button (this made Wylan squirm again; ticklish as he was). His free hand massaged and then dragged his nails over the bumps of his ribcage. He nosed appreciatively at the start of auburn hair just above the button of his boyfriend's trousers and nipped at a soft hipbone. Even around Jesper's thumb, Wylan let out a yelp. 

Jesper peeked sheepishly up at him. "Too hard?" he asked. He'd left a mark. 

Wylan grimaced, embarrassed at having interrupted the proceedings. "A little," he admitted, and Jesper amended by kissing the spot he'd nipped, only playing his teeth softly over his skin as he unbuckled Wylan's belt with dexterous fingers. "Can't wait to have you in my mouth," he said, aware his voice had lowered nearly an octave from want. "Wanna make you feel so good, Wy. Wanna make you come." 

Wylan shivered again, reaching a hand down to help shove his own pants down. "Yes," he panted. And, _"Please."_

He'd worn a wet spot into his underwear and Jesper rasped his tongue over the bulge of his cock nestled safely within the now near-sheer white fabric, teasing the glans and then breathing hot over the area. Wylan sobbed in desire, thrusting wantonly into Jesper's face and, laughing, Jesper had to help pin his hips down. "I don't think you're gonna last long, baby," he observed. "Look at you, all dripping for me. Has it really been so long?" 

"Please," was all Wylan could say again. "Please, Jes, I just need you." 

And really, how could Jesper say no to that?

He hooked his thumbs into Wylan's underwear, pulling it carefully over his straining cock and then sitting back a moment to admire the view of it, of Wylan near-tears with desire for him, spread out and dripping and vulnerable with wild lust in his sweet face. With legs spread and a hand still clutching the blankets, hair messed to hell and back and pink tinging his cheeks and down his chest, he looked debauched already. He looked like ripe fruit for the picking. And Jesper was _starving._

He lowered his head, breathing in the pleasantly pungent and familiar scent of needy cock, and tongued at the flushed head. When Wylan covered his mouth to stifle a whine, Jesper decided to make quick work of this; to give his sweet boy as much and as intense pleasure as possible. He deserved to feel good after the bad couple of weeks they'd already had. 

Holding his hip like a steadying handle, Jesper licked his own palm for lubrication and wrapped it around the length of Wylan's cock, holding it steady as he sucked at the tip and jerked him off, firm and with a twist like he knew Wylan liked. He knew a thousand wicked ways to play his tongue over sensitive skin and he employed them now. The grip on Wylan's hip became quite necessary as, unable to cope with such sudden and strong sensations, Wylan thrashed with a cry. 

"Jes," he sobbed, and now his hands were on Jesper's head, combing through his shorn-down hair and pushing, his desire evident. Jesper let him take it, opening his throat with practiced grace to take his full length. He let Wylan take control, let the man underneath him fuck his throat. His left hand now free, he palmed at taut, full testicles, rolling them in his palm and massaging a gentle thumb over them. 

When the pressure was a bit too much for him to take he tapped two fingers on Wylan's side and, though his cock twitched reluctantly in Jesper's mouth, he instantly eased up, releasing his boyfriend. "S-sorry," he gasped, though his balls strained in Jesper's hand. "I got carried away, I-" 

Jesper shushed him. "Baby," he said, and he knew Wylan liked how throat-fucking him made his voice go all hoarse. "I want to make you feel good. Remember, we always tell each other when we need a break, and I did. See? It's all good." 

He crawled from where he'd been kneeling at the foot of the bed up the length of Wylan's body and settled at his side, kissing him deeply and allowing Wylan to taste his own salt on Jesper's tongue. He moaned appreciatively, hips still thrusting at nothing in particular. Jesper leisurely unzipped his trousers, freeing his own long erection, the glans a lighter color like the skin on his palms. Knowing what he wanted, Wylan couldn't suppress a moan and allowed himself to be pulled impossibly closer. 

Jesper encircled both of their cocks together in his large hand and gave them a languid stroke, causing Wylan's mouth to fall open and his head to tip back.

Playing soft butterfly-kisses over the exposed throat, Jesper worked them both to a high peak, the tightness of his hand and the slide of wet cock against wet cock had Wylan's toes curling against his calf, and Wylan's back bowed with the effort to stave off orgasm. 

"It's okay baby," he encouraged. "Come for me, that's it. Wanna feel your come all over my dick. Want-" 

Wylan's cock jerked at the filthy talk, and he was pumping hot white seed in spurt after spurt over Jesper's hand and flat-planed stomach. Jesper moaned low in his throat and continued pumping his hand up and down rapidly, despite Wylan's whine at the increased intensity of the sensation, until he too saw white with his own release. 

Wylan worked him through it, nibbling softly at his collarbone and giving several encouraging pelvic grinds until he was milked dry and his come-splattered hand fell to the sheet. 

Wylan regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, looking flushed and mussed and utterly beautiful- and then positively filthy when, with a smile, he took Jesper's hand by the wrist and brought it to his face, where he proceeded to clean his fingers with his tongue one by one. 

Jesper was unable to stop the moan that rose in his throat from such a sight, lost in admiration for the utter perfection that was his gorgeous boyfriend, and though spent his cock gave one final, interested jerk. Wylan grinned wickedly. 

"Feeling better?" Jesper asked, when he remembered once more how to speak. 

"Much," Wylan sighed. "Thank you." 

He pulled close, taking one of Jesper's arms to wrap around himself when he held him tightly. "Will you stay until I go to sleep?" he asked. 

"Of course." 

"I love you, Jes." 

"I love you too, Wy." 

Jesper enjoyed cuddling as much as the next person, but his inability to hold still for long sometimes made it a bit of a struggle. But that particular night, sated by a good orgasm and feeling quite positive about helping someone he loved feel temporarily better in a rough situation, he was lulled by the rocking of the ship into a deeper sleep than usual. His sleeping habits, in fact, were so sporadic and unpredictable that, upon waking from a restful and deep sleep to a rapping on the door after the rising sun had already turned the sea a shimmering gold, he was rather confused. What on earth- 

The knock on the door came again, and Wylan grumbled by his side, pulling a cushion over his head. "Five more minutes," he complained, and so, still marveling at the realization that he had slept an entire night, Jesper slipped his trousers back on right and opened the door, where a crewmember was patiently waiting. 

"Land, sir," he explained deferentially, hat removed from his head and held to his chest. "Not thirty clicks off. We'll be docking before dinner." 

Intrigued, Jesper thumped his way up the wooden staircase to the deck, where he hastened to the bough, bracing a hand over his eyes to follow where everyone was pointing. Sure enough, with envigorating sea spray coating his face, he saw it; the lush green and mountainous region of the Wandering Isles. He'd only seen it in maps before, but the shape was unmistakable. 

"Welcome to Ceodearg, sir," grinned a crewmember.


	6. Correspondence (Inej/Kaz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inej makes the most of her bad situation by re-reading some letters and letting her imagination wander.

This town was not conducive to her very particular skill set. 

Ceodearg was an insular seaside trading post, green and rolling and hilly all the way down to the gray sand of the cold and briny beach and, to the east, the trading harbor where ships came and went all day long. The town overlooked the beach just above the bluffs protecting them from high-tide with the all-seeing church just at the edge (there was only the one) bronzed and eye-catching even from the sea. 

People lived here- predominantly fair-skinned, freckled and sandy-haired people, stocky and strong from farm labor and diets of milk and corn. Their houses were stumpy and squat, set into the sides of the hills resembling clusters of earth-toned toadstools. In fact, with the way vegetation was encouraged to grow along the walls and roofs, many of the older ones _did_ in fact look like they'd sprouted out of the hill along with the wildflowers and ivy. 

Inej, small and slim and dark, stuck out like a sore thumb. 

This was not her Ketterdam- foggy and perpetually overcast with tall, closely-knit buildings of gothic architecture that she could race across the tops of, no nooks and alleys for convenient hiding. Where the people were so diverse; having come from all ends of the earth, of so many colors and shapes and sizes that one such as herself could easily disappear into any crowd. There were no winding spires, clocks with hands longer than her body, stone gargoyles beside which to crouch. 

The subtle disapproval of Suli people, in particular, was everywhere. She received strange looks wherever she went. She knew what they thought of her people, that they were honorless swindlers, worshiping strange saints and embracing a hedonistic lifestyle. In such a conservative town where only certain Saints- and only two of hers- were acceptable to pray to and curfew was strictly enforced at dusk by strolling officers in crisp blue uniforms, where people were born and lived and had children and died in the same house, she had no place here. 

Though she tried to shuck the paranoia that she was always being watched, she knew her gut was telling her the truth. Eyes were everywhere. But she and Marya were running low on supplies, and the singular market mid-island was her only chance at purchasing anything. 

She ducked her head under the thick, sky-blue hood she'd purchased and quickened her step through the market when she kept sensing eyes on the back of her neck, her shopping basket tucked firmly under one arm. Several live chickens crooned inside, nestled atop a mess of root vegetables and bandaging. If she could just make it a few more steps- 

"There she is!" 

_Oh, Saints._ She broke into a run, ducking underneath a market stall where a large man in an apron beheaded a mess of freshly caught fish, nearly stumbling when she took the time to stuff the bandages into her long skirt's pockets. The fishmonger only stared at her, surprised, when she snatched the bloodied cleaver from his hand and turned to face her pursuers. 

Two women, young and armed, ran after her. She'd once believed them to be crew until they had turned on her; the beginning of the end for the rest of her crew. 

"Funny seeing you here, Cap'n," Jada, the taller of the two, a pretty brunette with a pink scar curving down the length of her cheek, sneered. The other, a plump girl called Sasha with yellow ringlets, was breathing too hard to speak. 

"Don't do this, Jada," Inej cautioned. "Tante Heleen's fate was not my fault; it concerns me in no way. And I don't want to hurt you." 

"Liar," snarled the brunette, advancing at a crouch. "You were her property until the man that took up your leash destroyed our world." 

The image of Kaz holding her on a leash was so incongruous with reality that Inej forgot how to properly speak for a moment. Was that really what they thought of him? He was many things, but he was no slaver. 

"Girls, I don't know what this is about," said the fishmonger in his lilting local accent. "But I want it out of my stall." 

They collectively ignored him. He had a fatherly look about him; the most he'd do was scold them further or threaten to summon a constable. No singular individual in this city had any real bite; it was the organizations one had to fear- the church, and the police. 

Jada moved towards Inej at an angle meant to block her path, trap her against the man's sizable belly. There was something about a jungle-cat to her movements; hungry. Her brown eyes were all madness. The blonde behind her just looked anxious, furtively glancing at the shoppers that gawked at them. "Constable's coming," she warned, and Inej saw several stiff, powder-blue hats over the crowd, moving in their direction. 

Making a split-second decision, Inej flung her shopping basket in Jada's direction. Three squawking hens flew from the wicker in an explosion of feathers and wildly flapping wings, causing her to fall back and throw her arms over her face to protect herself from sharp talons. Then, using the cleaver, Inej hacked at the main supporting rope to sever the tarp above the stall. The four of them, the chickens, and the barrel of flapping fish were all draped in thick, heavy material, dense enough to block out all light. 

In the mess of struggling and confusion, Inej rolled underneath the stall and took off on a run; one gravity-defying leap later and she raced across further tarps, then the stumpy roof of a house. As she caught her balance, arms held out to steady herself- oh, she was out of practice!- a young woman milking a small white cow gasped in alarm. 

Hurling herself further brought her to the church's steps. Painted eyes of Saints judged her rapid climb to the roof. Her thin-soled shoes pounded the slates as she put as much distance between herself and the marketplace as possible. 

It'd been like this for weeks, ever since her ship, her Wraith, the most generous gift she'd ever received, had been taken from her. Impounded by law under claims of piracy. She was a wanted fugitive, and no matter which of the many tiny islands she dashed to, at least one crewmember always managed to find her in the end. 

How long she'd be able to keep running like this, there was no telling. Eventually, she'd be captured and dragged to court, tried as a pirate, and surely found guilty. The local punishment for piracy was hanging. 

This was, she knew, an inside job. Jada, Sasha, and several other crewmembers had worked under Tante Heleen's oppressive rule alongside her. She'd never have suspected anyone to hold any level of fondness for the monster, but evidently her hatred of the woman who'd bought and sold her out was not universal. The facts were this: Heleen was dead, Kaz was at fault- when exactly this had occurred was a mystery to her- and somehow, she was to blame. 

They were out for her blood, and didn't care if they had to implicate themselves and accept a noose around their own throats to achieve it. 

Diving off the roof of the church, she tucked her shoulder underneath her and forced her body go limp upon impact with the thick country grass below, then allowed herself to roll down the steep drop, feeling the exact moment grass turned to dirt, then to sand. She came to a stop, feeling bruised and winded, just inches shy of ocean water. A group of school children- their uniformed dresses and tidy hats giving them away as members of the local prestigious Sankta Pietr academy- on holiday had stopped in their gathering of clams to gawk, speechless, at her abrupt arrival. 

Inej hopped back to her feet, brushed some of the sand off her body, and without further ado dove into the gently lapping waves. There was no time to waste; she'd garnered too much attention today. It was time for her and Marya to move again. 

Though the ocean was still shockingly cold from spring, she was a strong swimmer, and managed to butterfly her way from the main island and past a series of tiny ones. The Wandering Isle was known as such for the way islands appeared and disappeared with the tides; few were fixed long enough to set up civilization on, the main island being the major exception. 

Some nomad outcasts forever wandered the smaller isles, the ones that lasted only a season; a month, a week, before disappearing, charting the length of time they would remain above water, the rapidity in which they would inevitably sink. 

Inej arrived at last to the place she'd been calling home and hefted herself ashore, feeling tiny, sharp pebbles imbed into her palms. There wasn't much to their temporary isle; barely half a mile long, it boasted nothing more than several craggy stone formations atop a bed of smaller pebbles. And it was in between two such black, porous rocks that a face warily peeped at her. 

"Are you a mermaid?" 

Oh dear. She knew that glassy look in Marya's eyes; this wasn't one of her more lucid days. 

"No, Marya," she said softly, and swept her curtain of black hair over her shoulder to squeeze out the excess water. "I am Inej. I am your son Wylan's friend." 

"Wylan?" Marya pulled herself fully from their cave entrance, interest flickering into her expression. The pink scarf she'd tied in her hair to protect her curls from the salt air slipped loose and blew down the beach; Inej caught it instinctually. "Is he here?" 

"No," Inej replied, and began to strip out of her soaked tunic. She didn't fear being seen; the rocks all around protected her from view of the main island, which was the reason she'd chosen this one after her last had flooded. "Do you remember why you're here?" 

Marya stopped to think, looking around them. Inej crossed her fingers that she wouldn't become too aggravated trying to remember and devolve into hitting herself in the head with a closed fist again. Thankfully, today her eyes instead cleared into focus. 

"That boy sent me," she realized contemplatively. "He sent me to you. You're Inej, and he loves you." 

Inej smiled at that. She'd take what she could get. "Good; that's right." 

Striding naked to their cave entrance, she hung her clothing up to dry and searched for something warm to wear instead before pulling the bandaging from her pocket. Good; it was only wet, not destroyed. That, too, was separated and hung on a rock, weighted down with small, heavy stones. The long white strips fanned out in the salt breeze like banners. 

As she dressed in a relatively clean and definitely dry tunic, she stopped to look at the pile of read and re-read Suli letters, a fondness in her heart and a lump in her throat. The most recent had been the one Marya brought with her, carefully penned in Kaz's neat writing- almost too neat; learning the language had been difficult for him and he worked to keep it textbook precise, unlike Inej's more informal dialect. 

_"I send Marya in place of myself. Rescue will follow."_

The rest of the letter that followed left her glad that her new roommate- cavemate- was unable to read Suli. It still brought heat to her face and warmth to her belly, and she often found herself rereading the faded letters late at night, imagining his darkly honeyed voice whispering such words in her ear. 

"I'm boiling more oysters," Marya called, and Inej suppressed a groan. Though freshly caught oysters were a delicacy on Kerch soil, oysters and seaweed had been her only diet for so long that just the thought turned her stomach. She'd been _so_ looking forward to those carrots and chickens. Still, she forced herself to eat when the meal was ready; protein was protein. 

After eating, Inej re-rolled Marya's coarse red hair back into its scarf to keep the salt-fluffed locks from matting, and Marya returned the favor by combing through Inej's long, straight inky locks until they were silky and then twisting them into a crown braid she held with a bamboo hair stick. It was a nightly ritual they'd developed that always reminded Inej of her own mother. She leaned her head back against Marya's shoulder and closed her eyes, pretending for a moment that it was, breathing in the phantom smell of carnations, the crackle of pan bread. She stopped when it made the ache in her chest worsen. 

They retired to their stolen pile of blankets not long after, having no other light source but that of the moon. It was still cold enough at night that they shared their blankets, pooling their warmth. Marya, as always, slept like a stone, her light, warm breath softly hitting Inej's arm, but tonight the Suli woman could find no rest. 

Exasperated and stifled, with the rolling of the tides syncing to her heart, she finally extricated herself from the older woman's embrace and retreated back outside. Despite the miles and miles of space all around her, she felt trapped, and it made her skin crawl. In an effort to go _somewhere,_ she hauled herself atop the pile of rock that constituted her home, feeling the porous volcanic formation scrape her palms as she climbed high and silent as she was able. 

The moon was full and white as a bowl of milk, and the breeze freed strands from her braid. There were so many stars here, stars that could never be seen through Ketterdamn's smog. 

Bright and plentiful enough to read by, when it wasn't cloudy. And there wasn't a cloud in sight. 

The parchment in her pocket rustled. Anticipation shook her hands as she finally withdrew the stack. 

She started with the informative letters. Bits and snippets of textbook-accurate Suli, carefully penned in a steady hand. _"I've heard news of a storm east of Kerch. I trust you were not caught in it."_

A perfunctory statement- not even a question- but if he'd trusted her not to be in said storm, would he have paid the postage to send it? 

_"I've collected some information about your type of vessel from its creators in response to your question regarding its hull damage. I've included it in this correspondence and think it will be useful."_

Her breath stilled as she remembered how much she'd hesitated before adding the post script at the letter that preceded his next, how she'd talked herself in and out of such frivolity when his own letters were so businesslike. Her heart had pounded as she penned it at her captain's desk, and even more so when she'd been able to leave it with a Kerch-bound vessel carrying Shu wares. _"I miss the sound of your voice,"_ she'd said, and thrilled and despaired over that final note until his response had come weeks following. Business as usual, and then this: _"I know your imagination can conjure many things, so I know that you will hear my voice as you read this: I think, often, of the fall of your hair, the small of your back, the scent of your throat. There are many sounds I imagine in_ your _voice."_

Inej, the Wraith, death-defier and tightrope wunderkind, had nearly fallen over upon reading this. It'd taken multiple rereads before she was convinced she had not hallucinated the entire thing. And it was two days and many crumpled balls of parchment later before her next letter contained what she hoped was a suitable _"I would be interested to know what sounds you think of me making. I'll leave you with this: the image of your gloves on my skin has haunted my dreams for years."_

This was simultaneously the most inevitable and yet the most dangerous thing they'd ever done together. But the both of them had taken to this new game right away. It was touching without the fear of skin. It was a lifetime of repressed, damaged sexuality bubbling forward in a rush of page after page describing wants, hopes, fantasies. A desperation they could not hope to truly match in their current reality, but in this world of paper, well... 

_"I want to feel you,_ he'd written. And it might have been her imagination, but the ink was thicker now, as though he'd been pressing very hard with a pen to keep his hand from shaking. _"I dream of you sitting astride me, your flexible hips moving as you ride my hand. I want to feel your hot wet slick between my bare fingers. I want to touch your forehead to mine and look into your eyes."_

Despite the chill air, Inej's chest felt warm as she now lay back, the stack of read letters growing on her belly and the unread pile dwindling in her free hand. She'd bitten her lip hard as, after a long letter of describing her new woes- Jada's treachery, running ashore, having to take what she could and run as her dreams were robbed of her- she'd relieved her stress by filling more pages than ever. _"Is it just your fingers you want to slip inside of me- one, two, three, four fingers, stretched to your knuckles? I imagine they would feel longer than my own, but as I ride mine now I want you to pretend they are yours. How did you know to crook them just so? You are earning those sounds of which you seem so eager to hear, Kaz, my Kaz._

_"Your fingers satisfy me, but I can't help craving more. I want to feel all of you growing warm and thick beneath me until you ask, in that voice that caresses me so, whether it's time, whether we can become a single being with two heartbeats. Is this alright, Kaz? I return the question to you: is that something we can do?"_

Inej let out a low breath, reliving the butterflies. The button of her trousers was gone with a flick of her thumb, but she left her palm still on her belly, its heat warming her softness there. With her eyes closed, she pictured Kaz, sans glove, thumbing at the grove above her naval. He'd watched her come undone before, had heard her cry his name, and she would never forget the way his eyes had looked in that moment. She saw them now: hot as coffee, dark as sin, pupils wide enough to swallow her whole. 

His responses came more steadily now that she was stationary, that she was stalled from travelling as she so wished. They questioned, advised, cautioned. She would get out of this situation, he'd reassured her. He knew she was capable of anything. 

_"And in regards to your final question, I raise you this: Have I ever been able to deny you anything? I dream of a world in which I can tell you yes. I would slide my lips from your temple to your lips and hold you steady as you mounted me. My body, like my heart, would be in your control. I would rest beneath you a willing yet stationary support as you found your comfort, as you determined how we best fit together._

_"I request that you leave your hair down so that I might feel it brush my chest as you bow forwards. I would hold your face between my hands and fight to remain still as you rocked atop me, your feet pressed to my calves. Your Kaz? Of course I am your Kaz. Please remind me of this with your body."_

Giving up on the pretense that her climbing up here had been of innocent intent, Inej slid her hand into her trousers, feeling the wiry hair that grew between her legs. At the top of her slit, it had grown slick, just as he'd imagined. It was a full body response; not only had her cunt grown throbbing with built heat, but it simmered in her stomach, her chest, her neck, her cheeks. Her lips felt swollen with blood. The ocean pulsed to a rhythm and so did her fingers. She pictured the details that she could- how she'd place a cushion beneath Kaz's injured leg and kiss his ankle as she unbuckled his trousers. Whether all of his skin were as bright and clear as the moon above- she knew his face, his chest, his arms, but what of the rest of him?

How would he feel stretching her open? It was a pleasant surprise when the thought did not make her brain immediately shut down. Sometimes it was too much; sometimes, even the hypothetical could not get past the blocks in her mind. Tonight, she was able to touch herself without anxiety or panic, so she unbuttoned her tunic too and let the sky illuminate her breasts and imagined Kaz's liar's lips fastened to her nipple. 

In her thoughts, she rode him slowly, on top because it was what he wanted and what she needed to feel in control. Her hair down because he found it beautiful, and his hands ungloved for the same reason. Taking from and giving to and altogether just _knowing_ each other. _"My Kaz,"_ she said, and his voice the rumble of an avalanche as he agreed, _"Your Kaz."_

She hissed now as her thumb rubbed her clitoris. She needed more leverage, so she rolled onto her side and braced her elbow to rub more vigorously, letters crumpling beneath her. Did he touch himself like this to her letters? How would he do it? Did his hips buck like hers were now into his own hand? Did he have to fight to keep quiet like she was, did it come easier for him?

Paper crumpled when she turned her head, and the words that met her eyes made her moan aloud. _"I could slide my hands under your thighs and move you, spread your legs open so that I could watch you rise and fall on me. I'd slip all the way out of you and feel you slide back down."_

The memory of Jesper holding her open for Kaz to watch made her thighs tremble. He'd loved to watch, she could tell- such a visual man, studying every detail and storing it as though always preparing for a test. Nothing escaped his notice. Even without her telling him, he would quickly be able to read what she wanted, what she couldn't handle. How ironic was it that only beside the most dangerous person in Ketterdam that she felt the most safe? 

She didn't last long after that; the coiled heat and tension in her lower belly finally gave way and she came hard on her fingers, feeling her walls pulse and throb around her fingers as she fantasized of Kaz's head tossed back, long tendons in his throat showing and muscles in his chest quivering as his come spattered her legs and his own belly, sticky and stringy and boiling hot. It was so much that she fell back, hand still trapped between her thighs, as she panted and shook and came down hard, head spinning, and an uncounted amount of time passed before she was able to resume her night. 

Legs still jelly-like, she carefully gathered and tied the letters back up and very slowly climbed back down their enclosure, buttoning her tunic and trousers once more as she went. Her hands she rinsed in the sea until only brine could be scented on her fingers. And this time, when she curled into the warm cocoon of her blankets, she was deeply asleep in minutes, dreaming of pale hands on dark skin and unfathomable eyes meeting hers.

She was a little embarrassed at how sore her stomach muscles were upon waking the next morning. She didn't often move in such a way, but the ache wasn't wholly unpleasant. And it was with much less tension than the day before that she went out to pluck oysters from the rocks. 

A Kerch trading vessel was pulling into shore and she cocked her head, intrigued. It was Saint's Day, and the Wandering Isle never allowed trade on a holy day. Surely the captain of the vessel was aware of that much. 

It wasn't until black, bilious smoke began rising from the main island late that afternoon that she began putting two and two together. 

The Wandering Isle was burning. 


	7. Calculated Caveat (gen, Jes&Inej)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the cavalry arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my writing, please consider supporting my original erotica [here](https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07CR2CZLC).

The trading ship passed easily enough into the borders of the Wandering Isle, but once docked, men in blue Stadwatch-like uniforms barred their stepping onto the dock.

"Good morning, gentlemen," said the head officer in softly accented Kerch. 

Jesper nodded his head. "Good morning." He kept his expression pleasant, despite reading a tension in the crowd, feeling Wylan shift uncomfortably at his side. "How can we help you, officers?" 

"Well," said the leader amicably. He was armed, though not with any guns as far as Jesper could tell. He stood with a confident posture. "Some shoreline merchants were concerned, you see. We don't accept trading on Saints' Day, and of course anyone who trades with us knows this. So that means either you're experiencing difficulties on board... or you're not who your flag claims you are." 

_Saints' Day._ Blast. If Kaz were here, they'd never have made such a mistake. Of course, if Kaz were here, they wouldn't have needed to come to begin with. 

"We, um. Actually, we're here on other business," Jesper said finally. "A missing person's search, actually. My companion here wonders if you've seen these people?" 

He glanced at Wylan, who, after a moment, fumbled in his jacket for two small portraits. Marya was ever-busy with her charcoals and paints, and they'd been surprised in her closet to find many new images of themselves among her collection. 

He at last withdrew a clotch-covered charcoal drawing of Kaz and Inej together at the kitchen table- scribbly, but remarkable in how precisely she'd captured the softness Kaz's eyes sometimes took when looking at their Wraith. 

"We're looking for this man," Wylan said, trying to sound bold. "And-" he rummaged in his jacket again, this time for a self-portrait of Marya herself, done in soft red and gold paints. "- and this woman." 

The officer took both pieces, holding one in each large hand and studying them quietly. A second officer glanced over his shoulder, fair, freckled skin blanching. "Sir, that's-" 

The head of the Stadwatch silenced him with a look. Unease began to roost in Jesper's chest. 

"We haven't seen the man here," the officer said finally. "Although I recognize his visage. This is Kaz Brekker, is it not? You'd be hard-pressed to find any governing body who _wouldn't_ know his face." 

Jesper shrugged awkwardly. It was true: Kaz was infamous almost world-wide now. 

Behind him, the crew shifted, murmuring uneasily. Though he'd hired some Dregs for the voyage, most men aboard were honest sailors and traders, no doubt feeling uncomfortable at the realization they were being hired for a voyage with such associations. 

It was too beautiful of a day, of a _place,_ with its white-sand beaches and softly rolling seas, the sky so blue it hurt, to think of the impending fight in the air. 

"As for this woman," he continued, handing the portrait of Marya back, but keeping the charcoal drawing. "I don't recognize her. She looks like she could be from here, though." 

Wylan weakly clutched at his mother's image. "Could, uh. Could we begin our search on land, officers?" he asked. His smile looked anxious. 

"That's the question, isn't it? Do you all have your papers?" 

When Wylan blinked, the officer's pleasent smile became grim. "Would you care to explain to us what association you have with this pirate?" 

He turned the charcoal back on them; his hand covered Kaz, so he could only mean-  < p> "Inej." 

"She's quite wanted on the Islands. A thief. A disturber of the peace. A _pirate._ Her ship has been impounded, and we will find her eventually. We will dig her up from whatever hole she's crawled into, and she will be given the same treatment all pirate scum receive here." 

Jesper strongly suspected this 'treatment' didn't involve tea and biscuits and a hearty clap on the back. He kept his face composed- no need to give it all away too soon. 

"We ain't pirates, sir," one of his crew members piped up from the back. "Just traders- honest. It's them who's hired us on a fool's errand." 

Great. Now they had an impending mutiny behind them, a price on Inej's head, and armed officers before them. 

High stakes. They always made Jesper's heart pound joyfully. Wylan, however, didn't look so happy about their circumstances. 

"I take it you're not going to allow us to begin our search for Kaz Brekker or Marya Van Eck, then," he said carefully. 

"No," the officer mused, looking Jesper up and down. "I don't believe I will, actually. I think you'd be much more useful to us as bait." 

"What do you-" 

Jesper's reflexes had been dulled over the months by comfortable living and domestic life. Maybe that was why he reacted too slowly when an officer stepped to the side and, briskly and competently, bashed him on the back of the head with a club with a sickening crack. 

He reeled, crumpled onto one knee, nauseous with the world swaying violently around him: he was a little dingy in a storming sea. He heard church bells bonging in his ears. 

And then Wylan let off a series of firecrackers from _nowhere,_ whizzing and burning and banging. The main mast caught fire. People scattered, shouting orders. Crew members dove from the ship into the too-shallow sea. 

Wylan wrenched a revolver from Jesper's hip. He was struggling too hard to stay conscious to watch, but the crunch of metal on bone and the Stadwatch officer that fell, cursing, to the ground, holding his broken nose as blood gushed from his missing teeth suggested quite the pistol whipping. 

"I don't take kindly to those who harm what's precious to me," Wylan snarled, suddenly fierce as a predator. The gun went off a second later. The next body that fell did not stir. 

As the ship burned around them, Wylan knelt and took Jesper's shoulders. "Look at me," he said, still in that unfamiliarly authoritative voice. _"Look_ at me, Jes." 

Jesper did. Through the black spots dancing on his vision, he made out Wylan's deep blue eyes, his sternly set mouth. 

Wylan assessed him for a minute, then stood, dragging Jesper up with him. He could barely stand; trusting Wylan's shorter form to hold all his weight. Wylan was dragging him to the bow of the ship. "Cover your ears," he ordered, and when Jesper did, he fired at some approaching enemy behind them. There was a scream. 

"Do you trust me?" Wylan asked, the heat of the licking, approaching inferno making the ship crumble to ashes around them causing beads of sweat appear on his cheeks. The reflection of flames dancing in his eyes was so lovely that Jesper couldn't tear his gaze away. 

"With my life, Wy." 

Wylan nodded and pulled Jesper to him in a fierce embrace. More than a little confused, Jesper returned the hug- just as Wylan lept into the ocean as well. 

Jesper barely had time to hold his breath before their combined weight and heavy clothes were dragging them down. Though the crystilline waters were nothing like Ketterdam's filthy harbors at night, he recalled his hours with Kaz under water, sighed, and buried his face in Wylan's hair. 

When they were forced to resurface for air, Jesper saw that not only were still-burning hunks of ship floating in the water around them, but Wylan's fireworks were still going off in fits and sparks. One burst upwards in a straight line and exploded into red and violet sparkles against the azure sky, white fizzles between each rounded crimson arc arc burned an afterimage in Jesper's retinas when he blinked: the firework had formed a geranium. 

"You're alerting Inej," he realized, dimly aware that his own mental faculties had been affected by the blow to the head. "You're so smart, Wy." 

"Yeah, and you're heavy," Wylan grunted. "Here, float on your back, like-" he guided Jesper into a floating position and clung to his hand. Jesper was reminded of river otters back in Zemeni waters. 

"What's the plan now?" he asked. 

"It's coming," Wylan said grimly. 

Jesper didn't understand what he meant until a drenched and singed Stadwatch officer loomed over them, cuffs in hand. 

"Oh," he said faintly. 

* * *

Inej had already grabbed their meager belongings, strapping them to her back with the lengths of bandages, by the time she understood what the first geranium blooming in the sky must signify. 

"How beautiful," Marya murmured, in awe over the bouquet of flower-shapes. "My son is very talented." 

If she was at all surprised that her son had followed them to a remote island community, she didn't let on. Maybe this had been Kaz's plan for her all along- to lure out rescue in the guise of her only child. 

"Yes, he's talented, and we need to go," Inej grabbed for the older woman's hand, tugging her from their volcanic cave. "Do you see all that smoke? The whole harbor must be on fire. Here." She handed Marya two knives. "Don't lose them." 

Marya followed her, docile and content, into the water. She had a surprisingly strong breaststroke and needed very little help covering the significant distance to the main island, where they shook off like dogs, sending salt water flying in all directions. There was nothing for it but to continue on and hope the sun dried them as they walked. 

It seemed like much of the community had migrated towards the excitement on the harbor. Marya and Inej were free to walk on empty streets without fear of being stopped. The crowd of onlookers could be heard up ahead where most trading ships- and Inej's own beautiful Wraith- were docked. 

When their many voices became distinct, Inej stopped Marya long enough to pull a fox-fur hood she'd purchased over her hair, tugging it low over her eyes. It was the fashion here; hopefully she'd look normal enough that nobody would look twice at her damp, clingy, dirty dress and squelching boots. 

No such luck for Inej. She was just too _different._

"You have the knives," she reminded Marya. "Go blend into the crowd. I'm going to be hiding above. I won't lose sight of you, so don't worry. I'm still here." 

"I'm not worried." Marya marched off into the others, where plenty of women her size and color were wearing similar hoods. Inej climbed the large Wandering Isle sign about half the height of the nearby lighthouse and waited, disappearing into the shadows. 

Her sharp eyes picked out uniformed movement in the crowds. Officers in their blue suits and hats, looking oddly singed and wet. Apparently whatever it was (probably Wylan) that had caused the great gusts of flame that were now only smoldering wet wood, they'd been in the thick of it. 

They were also leading multiple figures, hands tied behind their backs and burlap sacks secured around their faces, to the stockades. No wonder the crowd was so tense: there was to be a hanging; forget the judge and jury. 

She scanned the hips of each captive- there were fourteen; she counted. Enough to be a crew- and her heart sank when she found what she was looking for. An empty set of holsters designed specifically to hold dual pearl handled revolvers. _Oh, Jes..._

She had to believe that Kaz had planned further than this. Surely he wouldn't send Jesper and Wylan after her, only for them all to die. 

She climbed higher up onto the lighthouse to keep watch as the crowd moved further inland. The gallows were just behind the church, where the judging, painted eyes of the Saints could watch. 

Marya moved with the crowd; Inej tracked her movements easily as she pondered her own next actions. Finally, when enough distance from the last stragglers of the crowd were far enough away, Inej climbed back to the ground and began to sprint in the opposite direction. She didn't have much time to make a decent lap around and get to the front of the church, and she pushed herself until a painful stitch formed between her ribs, and even then she pushed harder. There wasn't time for breathing, not when her friends' lives were on the line. 

Her coordination had gotten sloppy when she reached the church steps, and her legs felt like lead. She allowed herself a few precious seconds of gasping for breath, letting oxygen work its way back through her system, before beginning the climb. The crowd on the other side of the church let out a collective gasp after the unmistakable _thud_ of a leaver opening holes in the gallows under the hanged mens feet. 

Inej's pounding heart sank. They were moving so _fast-_

Finally reaching the roof of the church, she hurried across it on silent boots and threw herself down beside a pillar to watch the proceedings. Masked bodies were cranked back up from where they'd fallen with enough force to snap their necks, hauled over beefy shoulders like sacks of barley, and carted away before the gallows were set up for new victims. In just a few minutes, four men had been killed. Not Jesper, this time, but judging by body type and the color of their exposed hands, at least two of them could have been Wylan. 

"For conspiracy with pirates," the head Stadwatch was saying as four new men were walked across wooden platforms and ropes were pulled around their throats. "Before the eyes of the Saints, we sentence you on this day-" 

A short, feminine figure stepped up and threw her hood down. Marya's golden-red curls glinted in the sunlight. "Not my son," she growled, so faintly that Inej could barely hear her. Then she plunged one of the knives Inej had given her into the gut of the officer speaking. 

Bedlam ensued. 

Acting on instinct, Inej reached a hand into one of her bandage-slings, grabbing a heavy leather pouch treated with duck fat to be water resistant. She tore it open as she ran, flinging herself off the church- she landed badly in her awkward leap- and let an arc of dense red powder descend on the crowd, filling the air. 

"My _eyes!"_ someone screeched. 

It was gunpowder and flakes of the hottest chilli on the island- so hot that gloves were required to be worn when handling it. And on a windy day such as this... 

More and more screams broke out as people panicked, flailed, inhaled too sharply, rubbed vigorously at the unknown substance coating their skin. Every action made the burning worse. Inej's own hand burned fiercely where she'd touched the toxic mix, but there was no time for it. She just covered her own face one arm as she ran through the reddish mist, pushing through the crowd and mounting the gallows with three sharp steps that made her injured ankle throb in complaint. 

"I'll show you a pirate," she growled under her breath, scowling when she saw how Marya had fallen when someone struck her hard across the mouth. She grabbed the first man standing bewildered at the screaming. He was too tall to be Wylan, but she held him still with an arm on his shoulder and pulled his head free of the noose anyway. "Keep the mask on," she ordered. "There's toxins in the air." 

She pulled him down with an arm about his shoulders and moved to the next victim- this one too tan to be Wylan- and repeated the procedure. The third victim was a woman, which meant that the final one had to be... 

"Inej," he gasped, as she freed him and then used a serrated knife to free his hands as well. Good. The dust was starting to clear, and she needed the extra help, so she pulled the cloth from his face. 

"Come on," she said. "We have to fight our way out together." Those were Kaz's words, but she needed them now. 

He took the serrated knife from her hand, nodded firmly. 

Then a man's hand wrapped around her sore ankle and jerked her down off the dais, a second hand coming to press flat to her mouth and nose. She struggled, unarmed and caught off guard. 

"I was hoping your little friends would lure you out of hiding, _Wraith,"_ he goaded. "Don't worry. I won't kill you yet. My informants tell me you've been corresponding with someone much more valuable than you." 

_Informants._ Jada. Sasha. He wanted Kaz. He'd hold all of them if it would bring Kaz to him... and it just might work. 

She had no purchase to elbow him, but she felt hot blood from his Marya-induced knife would seep into her spine. He was weak. If she could just- 

The red mist was congealing around them in a way that defied all logic. Not drifted by the wind, but brought together in a near-solid mass. Only a Fabrikator could control partical elements like- 

"Let her go." Jesper's voice was very calm- a calm that belied his racing heart and eager, bright-eyed expression. He'd managed- with or without help, she didn't know- to emerge from his bindings and stood before them. Inej noticed a very large and bloody lump on the side of his head. 

"Or what?" scoffed the officer. Jesper shrugged, smiled. A moment later, the red and gray wall of dust congealed further and arrowed for them, bypassing Inej entirely and burying its full potency into the open wound of the man's stomach. 

It took him a moment to register what had happened. When he fell, he pulled Inej down with him, mouth open in silent screams. His wound bubbled and spat as all soft tissue inside boiled. He frothed at the mouth; red-streaked tears ran down his face. 

Most of the crowd had scattered; the middle ages escorting their children and elders away from the danger until only those curious older teens and twenty-somethings lingered with the officers. 

Jesper hooked an arm around Inej's waist and hauled her to him. "C'mon," he said, and left the officer to die. "Marya, where-" 

"I've got her." 

Wylan and his mother ambled towards them. Her face had swollen over where the man had hit her, but she was otherwise unharmed. 

"Halt," ordered another officer, approaching them with club in hand. Jesper snorted, arched an eyebrow. 

"Really," he said bluntly. "After watching him boil from the inside out? Unless you've got a few trained Grisha you didn't turn into the Rakvans- and we all know how unlikely that is- I wouldn't, if I were you." 

The officer dithered, uncertainly glancing at his head of command, who had gone quite still while his blood still frothed. That was when Jada stepped in instead. 

"You," she said, narrowing her eyes at Inej. The scar on her cheek stood out in stark relief under the bright sunshine. Who had given it to her? A cruel customer? Tante Heleen herself? Sometimes she deliberately damaged her girls to drive down their value; they brought in less income and so she could keep them indefinately. 

"You can't get to Kaz through me, Jada," Inej sighed tiredly, leaning into Jesper's shoulder. It was so good to see his friendly face again. "It won't work, and I won't let you. Tante Heleen didn't deserve to live after what she did to me- and to _you."_

"Heleen?" Jesper asked. "Is that what this is all about? Saints; Kaz didn't pull that trigger. I killed her myself, and good riddance." 

Jada turned an incredulous stare his way. _"You?!"_ Then she seemed to recover. "It makes no difference. You're only his pet. Regardless of who pulled the trigger, it was his orders that destroyed her business and ended her life." 

Heated anger coiled in Inej's stomach. "You have it all wrong," she said cooly. "Kaz does not own people, nor has he ever claimed to. We are none of us his pets, his belongings, his property. It was Heleen who felt that way about the world, not us." 

"We don't have time to argue with you," Wylan piped up. He and Marya had freed the surviving members of the crew, and Inej recognized a few Dregs surrounding them in a protective bubble. He and Marya were also holding the knives Inej had given them. "We're leaving now. Inej, we're taking your ship; the one we arrived in is no longer with us." 

Inej nodded. She could figure out what was going on later. They couldn't stay here, not when the officers and townies at the fringes of the circle looked like they were contemplating a sneak attack. "You could stay here," she told Jada. "I won't tell Connie and Iris that you and Sasha are still alive. I assume they're the ones who planted you in my crew? If anyone asks, we'll say you died here. You could start a new life. I'm so sorry Heleen took away so much of your life; she took some of mine away, too." 

Then, because Jesper looked too stunned to stop her, she stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and kissed Jada softly over her scar. "I'm sorry this happened to us," she told the other girl. "You're free now. Live your best life." 

Jada gawked at her like she'd grown an extra head, but she didn't stop them from walking past her. The officers held their clubs menacingly, but the Dregs had knives and Jesper's deadly powder. Nobody dared come close. 

Collectively they passed through the church to the lot outside. The same white cow Inej had seen the day before peeped out at her from beside a barn. Jesper left her side long enough to come closer to the building- Inej swore she saw a curtain twitch inside- and emerged with a little brown nanny-goat, her swollen teats looking uncomfortable. Inej understood immediately; goats milk was a natural cure for the burns she and some others had suffered in the fight. 

Then she, her new crew, and the little nanny goat returned to the harbor; free at last to begin a new adventure.


	8. Conclusion (Kanej+Wesper/Multi)

At dawn, the quartet let themselves into the Van Eck mansion. Inej trudged exhaustedly beside Jesper and Wylan, with Marya following at a sedate pace near the back. Inej was so tired that her eyes were straining, but not too tired to appreciate how good it felt to be home again. 

It wasn't a permanent respite. A pirate's work was never truly done, but Inej wasn't opposed to taking time for herself first before it was time to reassemble a crew with trustworthy motives. To repair her ship and rest until the bone-deep exhaustion left her at last. 

Jesper and Wylan were looking to be on their last legs too, after two eventful trips by sea back-to-back with nothing but a life-threatening attack in between. 

They'd paid for a carriage ride from the docks to the Van Eck mansion, and Inej was unsurprised to find that Kaz was already waiting for them, calm and collected in the entertaining room, his back to the door as he worked at his desk. Nothing came into or left Ketterdam without Kaz's knowledge. No doubt one of his countless informants had brought warning of their arrival. 

"Good evening," he greeted, making a last note on his paperwork, stuffing it into an envelope, and turning to face his companions at last. "And merry meet. I see you've found one another in good health." 

Wylan, as it turned out, was not yet too tired to speak his mind. "You son of a bitch." The hate and fury in his voice as he strode aggressively towards Kaz's chair drew both Inej and Jesper's concern. 

"Wylan, don't," Inej protested, when the demolitions expert raised a hand to strike his leader. 

Ignoring her, Wylan's fist connected with Kaz's jaw before Jesper or Inej could pull him back. Kaz made no motion to stop him, and moved his body with the punch to absorb as much impact as possible. He brought a hand to his jaw, checked his fingertips for blood (there was none) and then cleared his throat. "It's nice to see you too, merchling." 

"Shut up. Just. _Shut up,_ Brekker." Wylan shook his hand out, no doubt feeling the sting of the impact. "You sent my _mother_ to the fuck-all ends of the earth, and us on a wild goose chase after her, and for _what?!_ " 

Jesper was staring in silent horror as his partner berated their leader. _Nobody_ hit Kaz and got away with it; not ever. Just because Kaz wasn't seeking retribution now didn't mean that he wouldn't -- Grudges lasted forever with this man. 

"For Inej," Kaz replied simply. "And you all appear to be alive and in one piece, so it appears my gamble paid off flawlessly. Hello, Marya." 

Marya, who had been looking vacantly out the window, snapped her attention back to him. Her smile was wide and warm. "Oh. Hello again." 

Kaz raised an eyebrow at the group as though to say, _'you see?'_ before making to turn back to his work. Wylan, enraged, lifted a hand to strike him again. 

"I wouldn't, Van Eck," Kaz warned in his stone's voice. "I'll accept the first one as deserved. I won't be so forgiving a second time." 

Conflict warred on Wylan's face. He was still quite angry, and Kaz's casual attitude about the situation just fanned his fire. But-- 

"Put your hand down, Wylan," Marya ordered, sounding sharper and more lucid than any of the available party could remember her speaking before. "That's very impolite." 

Wylan, more out of shock than anything, did as his mother asked. 

Inej's exhaustion seemed to catch up with her all at once, and she swayed. Jesper, reflexes sharp as ever despite his own tiredness, caught her easily and maneuvered her to the chaise lounge. "Hey," he said, tucking her hair gently behind her ear. "You're alright, Wraith. Why not take a little rest?" 

She smiled fondly at her friend and leaned to cup his cheek in her palm, thumb fitting neatly into his dimple when he smiled. Their voyage together had made the trio closer than ever. "Thanks, Jes." 

He knelt to unlace her boots for her, then dropped a kiss to her forehead. "Sleep," he advised. "Even spiders have to nest. Wy and I are going to sleep, too. Marya...?" 

The redheaded woman was already halfway up the stairs, disinterested in the proceedings below. Jesper laughed. "It's settled, then. Goodnight, Brekker; you conniving old snake. I've no doubt you'll debrief us when we wake." 

Kaz glanced in time to see Jesper, with his arm around Wylan's shoulders, give Inej's hair one last stroke before making their own way to the stairs. 

Inej brought her knees to her chest as she reclined, struggling to keep her eyes open. She blushed under Kaz's look, recalling the contents of the many letters they'd exchanged. "You don't mind if I stay in here, do you?" she asked, or thought she'd asked. If he answered, she was already too far gone to hear it. 

* * *

When she woke, late afternoon light was peeping around the study's thick curtains, and Kaz's coat was resting atop her curled body like a blanket. She rubbed the satiny red lining with a thumb, then freed her hand to pat the black leather exterior. It smelled of Kaz; sharp as snow, warm as whisky. 

"Did you sleep well?" She heard his voice inquire, and she turned to look at where he sat, relaxed, in an arm-chair. Perhaps he'd been sleeping, too. His gloves were folded on his lap, hands vulnerable and bare on top. 

"Yes, thank you," she gave him a small smile, more glad that he'd stayed with her than she cared to admit. Her stomach rumbled, and he arched an eyebrow, looking almost playful to the very trained eye. 

"Hungry?" 

"Very." 

When she stood, he did too, relying heavily on his cane-- more evidence that he'd been asleep. His leg often locked up when he was unconscious. Inej neither offered assistance nor hurried him along, simply waited patiently for him at his own pace. 

He came closer to her than was their custom and, when she didn't pull away, he fixed an intent look on his face, brought his bare hand up, and very deliberately, very softly smoothed her hair out of her eyes. The shell of her ear tingled where his fingers traced it. Her breath caught. She didn't dare move, lest she spook him away. 

He dropped his hand after that and offered no further contact, but didn't shudder or pull his gloves back on, either. 

She cleared her throat as they walked together into the kitchen, his cane tapping the floor at intervals while her stocking-clad feet remained softer than whispers. 

"I missed you," she confessed, wanting to return his earnest attempts of affection. "I thought of you daily." 

"And I you." He didn't smile, but his forward gaze softened. She held it in her heart like a pearl. _I love you,_ she thought, and perhaps she was thinking it very loudly, because he looked at her again with his bitter-coffee eyes as she entered the kitchens and shuffled through the ice-box and cupboards for something to eat. 

He accepted her offer of saffron rice and, without being questioned, layered a small puddle of oil in a pan to fry breaded hen-breasts. The smell of sizzling spices woke Inej considerably. 

_Home. Home. Home..._ Ketterdam was never supposed to become home. It was just a stopping point in her life; a hell to escape from. It was a foul city full of the worst kinds of people. But some of those terrible, wonderful people had become family, and so a part of her would never truly be able to leave. 

Kaz and Inej ate in silence, shoulder-to-shoulder at the long and otherwise empty table. For dessert Kaz broke open an orange and they split the tangy sections. With the juice still sweetening her lips, she gathered her courage and rested her head on his arm, being extra careful to avoid any direct skin-on-skin contact, feeling only the cotton of his shirt under her cheek. 

He softened under the touch. It lasted a full thirty seconds before he cleared his throat, sliding the curlicue peels of orange on a napkin towards her hand. "For your bath," he said. He'd tolerated as much of the contact as he was able, and was letting her go as gently as possible. 

"Thank you. I _did_ want a bath." She took the peels and made her graceful exit for a bathroom, steeping them in the hot water until their subtle fragrance spread like a weak tea, and then climbed into the giant black tub for a blissfully long soak. 

The rest of the day was spent in quiet relaxation; reading and enjoying the peace of her simple bedroom, left untouched since she'd left. Some of the available Dregs stopped by to see her, Jesper, and Wylan for dinner when they heard news of their return, eagerly asking after their adventures. Inej answered as many questions as she could, and asked plenty of her own, interested to see the changes Kaz had brought in his short time of owning the gang. 

Fatigued again, she retreated back to her room at dusk. Wylan had had the housekeepers re-make her bed with fresh sheets, and she was about to lie down in them when she heard a soft knock on her door. 

"Come in, Jes," she called as she twisted her long hair into a sleeping braid. 

"It's not Jes." 

_Oh!_ Masking her surprise, she altered her response: "Come in, Kaz." She glanced at her reflection for half a second before berating herself for being silly. He'd seen her covered in all manner of blood and filth, had seen her donned up in jewels and finery, had seen her naked, climaxing on another man's fingers. A little thing like her sleep-clothes wouldn't change Kaz's opinion of her now. 

Still though. Her heart stopped when she turned and saw him standing, gloveless and vulnerable, in her doorway. Meeting her eyes, he carefully set his cane against the wall and surveyed her impassively. The weight of dozens of letters hung between them, making her breath hitch in her throat. He himself looked uncertain, and when he approached her, he did so slowly. 

"Just... hold still, okay?" he requested and, after she nodded, she felt his hand press to her back, through the soft cotton of her night shirt. It was such a deliberate touch; no grab or push or nudge delivered in the heat of battle. He pressed closer, then paused again. 

"If you don't want me to--" 

"I do." She didn't need to ask what he was going to do. It didn't matter. The answer should always be yes. She pushed away the nervous creature her time at the Menagerie had injected into her. She didn't have the time nor the patience to coddle her past trauma; this was happening _now,_ and she wanted it to! Those voices could just hush a moment and let her enjoy this, for once. 

Kaz's hand ran up her back, fingers tangling the loose strands from her incomplete braid. Still he did not balk. Still she did not protest. Then five fingertips, ovular and cool, pressed the back of her neck. _Skin on skin, at last._

Inej's heart kicked like a horse into full gallop. She brought her hands to the fabric of her blouse and began to unlace it, a piece at a time. Kaz swallowed as he watched her do it. "Have you been practicing?" she asked, genuinely curious. He'd confessed that all attempts at getting close to people had been a failure; he never managed to shake the panic it invoked. 

"A little," he admitted. "I've been quite motivated." 

She recalled the first time he'd kissed her shoulder when bandaging her wounds, how much he'd shook, how loudly the sea had roared in her ears, threatening to drown her under its broiling waves. They'd both been such frightened children, then; so damaged, so in love. It was a lethal combination, and she didn't know if even now they were able to meet each other in this physical way. Maybe they were fated to be at arms' distance, forever. 

Having never cared for fate, Inej slid the shirt off her shoulders. It fell to the ground in a whisper of fabric, leaving her bare aside from her underthings. She felt the heat of his eyes as they took her in. Her arms, her waist, the small prominence of her breasts, all close enough to touch, should he just reach. "Your turn," she whispered, her mouth quite dry. 

He took his hand off her neck when he reached for his coat. She'd seen him undress before, but had never allowed herself to really _look,_ to see his body as anything more than the thing that carried his brilliant mind. Oh, she'd noticed things a time or two; the creamy skin, the wiry musculature... but she hadn't allowed herself to look any more than that. She'd thought he wasn't for her, and she knew that she wasn't for anyone. What point was there to dwell on what one could never have? 

How things had changed, slow and sure as the ticking of a clock. Now, perhaps, she _could_ have him; and he, her. As much as either of them could be had. 

He folded his coat and draped it over the iron footboard of her bed. The sight of it there kicked her pulse up a notch: Kaz's outerwear discarded on her furniture seemed infinitely more revealing than her naked belly. 

"Your turn," he whispered. 

He did not reach for her as she undid the knot at the back of her chest support, unwinding the thin wrapped fabric, and lay it aside. She found she could no longer meet his eyes, feeling very small and very naked in the room. He'd seen her bare before, but not in this way. Surely he'd find some inadequacy... 

"Look at me, please," he said, and so she forced herself to do so. Would he tell her that she was beautiful? She'd heard those words before. She didn't want them now. She didn't feel beautiful; she felt like a child pinned down on a bed by a grown man as he forced her legs apart, as he bit her breasts and clawed her stomach and-- 

No. No. This was Kaz. This was her partner in all things. This was the one she trusted the most. She was here and now; not then and there. She gulped but held his eyes steady as he unbuckled his trousers and laid them atop his coat. She'd never seen him without trousers before. 

He held quite still as her eyes traveled over him. His waist was quite small; his hips, narrow. His legs were very long. The left leg was as muscular as his arms-- the right, significantly slimmer. He could not put as much weight on it, and it showed. She did not stare at it, but she didn't look away, either. It was as much a part of Kaz as his bitter-coffee eyes and his gravestone voice, and so she studied and accepted it and put it away in her mind. 

Less easy to do was allowing her eyes to stray to the bulge on the front of his undergarments. Her mind recoiled at it; she only just resisted the urge to close her eyes. To grow limp and numb and to escape into some faraway corner of her mind until all was finished. 

_No!_ He was more than that, and so was she. Yes, he had that part- the part of a man that could rend and tear and hurt. But he would not use it that way, because he loved her, because he was not that kind of man, because she trusted him. She slowed her breathing meditatively and came back to the present. 

"Your turn," he said, and there was a warm timbre to his voice that she'd only heard a few times before. He'd seen her response to his growing arousal. He'd understood. And he'd known not to comment on it after seeing her come back to herself. This was just something that was going to happen between them-- he accepted it; as she accepted him. They both wanted to move past their respective hurdles. 

Drawing her lip into her mouth, she removed her undergarments and stood, bared in full, before him. 

Her body was still hers. She'd not been forced to don silks and bells and wild-cat's ears; to line her eyes and paint her lips until she was no longer a girl but a fantasy of what men thought girls should be. Hair now grew under her arms and along her legs and between her thighs. She was not artfully presenting herself on a platter to be unwrapped and savored: she was showing herself to Kaz in all her muscled, scarred, human nowness, and oh, how his eyes heated taking in every inch of her; strong and unafraid. 

"Your turn, Kaz." 

He was a little ungainly in shedding his undergarments. His balance was not the best, and he had to brace a hand on her iron footboard to keep from falling. He looked, in that flash of a moment, embarrassed; scared, even. 

Then it was gone, and there he stood. Pale as cream, thin as a snake. Her eyes kept falling on his cock; stiffened, interested in the proceedings; long and thin as the rest of him under a dark thatch of wiry hair. He had hair on his chest, too, though not much, and his nipples were small. Without his sleek and tailored clothing to shroud and protect and amplify him, he could have been any barrell boy; too skinny; bones all over, having visibly smashed and knit back together too many times. 

She loved him. Oh, _how_ she loved him. She ached from the inside out in places she could not explain: the marrow inside her bones, the gristle between her joints, her gums and follicles and tissues all warmed for him. In that moment, she was all body and very little thought. 

They stood, bathed in the red light of a setting sun. 

Kaz took the first step. 

Inej met him halfway. 

* * *

There was a vigorous, insistent knocking on the door.

Inej jolted, a panicked look on her face, and her fluttering hands tried to both wipe the tears off her cheeks and to reach for her tunic at the same time. 

"It's just me," Jesper's gentle voice carried through the dividing wall. "I'm going to come in now, okay? Kaz, don't even think about going out that window." 

Kaz, who had indeed been edging towards the window, fell still, a defensive scowl on his face. Jesper shoved the door open, bathing Inej in light from the hallway and regarding his two gang leaders with eyes that were all too kind, all too knowing. 

"Well, you two are a right mess, aren't you?" he asked, and Inej was unable to suppress another sob as she ducked her head, burying her face in her hands. 

"Oh, hey, hey," Jes soothed, and stepped into the small room. He sat lightly on the corner of the bed beside her feet, and brought a hand towards her shoulder. "Can I touch you?" he asked. 

She nodded, so he put that hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay," he said quietly. "It's okay. You're safe here." He looked at Kaz as he rubbed small, reassuring circles between Inej's shaking shoulderblades. "Are you going to come here, or are you just going to stare at me?" he asked the iron-stiff, fully dressed boy with a hand still on the windowsill. 

Still scowling, Kaz averted his gaze to wall just behind Jesper. "What will you do if I say no?" he asked. 

Jesper shrugged. "Nothing. I'm not a monster." 

This made Kaz snort. If _Jesper_ was a monster, then Kaz was the devil. 

Leaning heavily on his cane, Kaz approached the same bed that he'd just lept from as though it'd been on fire. Jesper moved with deliberate slowness, making no unpredictable movements, and took Kaz's black-gloved hand in his own, a little shocked when he was permitted to do so. Inej's small hand, calloused from her knives, found Jesper's free hand on top of the blankets and she laced their fingers together until the three were an open triangle. 

When Jesper turned his head to press a kiss to Inej's tear-stained cheek, she snuffled, wiped at her nose, and sighed. "I must look so pathetic," she laughed bitterly. "I can kill a man in thirty different ways with a dinner-knife, and yet I can't even..." 

"Hey," Jesper protested. "None of that." 

He turned his attention to Kaz. Again, careful as he might be around an injured tiger, he tilted Kaz's hand back- touching only the skin that his glove covered- and leaned in. Then, keeping eye-contact all the while, he pressed a kiss to the back of Kaz's hand. Kaz's fingers flexed, but he did not pull away. His eyes were unreadable caves that spoke of more flight than fight. 

"I'm surprised you would come near me," he said, his voice pure gravel. "After last time..." 

A muscle in Jesper's jaw twitched at the underwater memory from all those months ago. "Part of loving someone, Kaz Brekker," he said coolly. "Is forgiving them when they hurt you. And part of self-preservation is knowing that you cannot let anyone, not even a loved one, _keep_ hurting you. If you ever treat me in such a way again, I will leave, and you will not follow me." 

There was an intensity between their held gazes for a long, charged moment. Jesper knew that he was directly challenging Kaz's authority; a very risky move, but one he knew he had to take before this conversation continued any further. Leader or not, they'd surpassed such bonds long ago. If Kaz continued pretending he was nothing to him, then their relationship had to end. 

Finally, Kaz dropped his gaze in a tiny nod of acceptance. "That action will have no echo," he said in carefully articulated Suli. He gently stroked Jesper's high cheekbone, traced a gloved thumb under his full, perfect lips. Jesper closed his eyes and leaned into his hand. 

Inej looked back and forth between them, wondering what Kaz could have done to hurt Jesper so, but now wasn't the time for stories. She found that, now that the panic and anxiety of the failed intimacy were gone, she could breathe again. Her tears stopped, her heart calmed, and she felt foolish for having a meltdown in bed with Kaz. 

"Love you, Jes," she said quietly, and he wrapped an arm around her narrow shoulders. 

"Love you too, 'Nej. Are you two going to be okay now? Wylan's probably wondering where I am. We had plans tonight before we heard the uh. Shouting." 

Inej considered. _Would_ they be okay? The evening was pretty much ruined. If she were alone with Kaz, he'd probably just brood in the corner, permeating the atmosphere with self-loathing at their mutual anxiety attacks until he gave in and finally just left her be. She didn't want to be alone. 

"Would it be too much of an intrusion to join you and Wylan?" Kaz asked, surprising them all. 

Jesper cocked his head. "I would... have to ask," he considered. "Don't be offended if he says no; he's very angry with you right now, Brekker." 

Kaz dipped his chin in acknowledgement. Inej and Kaz watched as Jesper stood and left them be for a moment. 

"Kaz--" Inej said quietly, though her mouth felt very dry. "Kaz, please come here." 

He didn't want to, she could tell. He kept his gaze somewhere above her head, not looking at her. But, as if every step cost him dear, he did approach. Allowed her to take the hand he'd forced back into the glove in his wild struggle to dress again, to put a safety barrier over his skin. She'd broken outwards, all fists and teeth, while he'd silently, horribly collapsed only on the inside, dying at every point of skin-on-skin until she feared he may never surface again. 

"We're stronger than this," she told him firmly. "We did too much; too fast. We know better now. I will love you regardless of if we never--" 

"I thought I was okay," he admitted through gritted teeth, sounding absolutely furious with himself. She could relate to that feeling. "I thought I could--" 

"We have to accept the fact that that may never be possible to us," she said. "And I'm okay with that, Kaz. I love _you._ If it hurts us to be together like this, then we'll find love in ways that don't hurt. We've _already_ found a thousand and one ways that require no touching at all. We can find a thousand and one more, and I'll find joy in every one of them."

He looked at her with those dark, dark eyes until tension began, slowly, to leach out of his frame. He sighed and closed his eyes. Gave a tiny nod. 

When Jesper returned, he did not do so alone. Wylan, wearing little more than a shirt that barely covered his freckled thighs, also stood in their doorway, surveying his leaders impassively. The look he gave Kaz was cold-- he'd done all his shouting earlier in the day. He'd used up all the angry words there were to say and now only dead silence hung between them. 

Kaz regarded the smaller man, still and silent as a wolf. There seemed to be something passing between them that Inej couldn't place; an argument without words, a storm without wind. Just when she thought it would never end, Kaz tilted his chin up, eyes downcast. For once in his life, he was relenting. 

Wylan let out a breath. "Okay," he said. 

Jesper and Inej exchanged a glance. It appeared that he knew as little as she did in regards to their lovers' strangeness. 

Wylan slid his hand into Jesper's as Kaz stood, offering Inej his own hands. "But--" she started to speak. She was naked underneath her blankets, and he knew it. Jesper likely knew it as well, but he did not avert his gaze. At last she understood what the four of them were going to do. 

"You don't have to," Wylan spoke plaintively. "Since everyone else is too pigheaded to say it, 'Nej. Nobody here has to do this. We're not like that. But this is what you're asking for, isn't it? Help?" 

"Of course." That the answer came so easily to Inej was proof that this was right. If she'd been asked before whether she'd be comfortable to stand naked in a room of three men after all she'd been through, the answer would have been a resounding no. But these weren't just any three men. 

She stood. When the blankets fell away she felt the moonlight bathe her skin. 

Nobody said anything for a long moment, until Jesper, sweet Jesper, broke the silence. "You're so beautiful, Wraith." When he said it, it didn't sound a thing like when the men at the Menagerie said the words. She did not feel like a posession in Jesper's eyes, but a beloved friend. 

"You are, too," she told him honestly, and saw his teeth, stark white on his dark face, as he cheerfully took the compliment in the spirit it was intended. 

Like a shadow, Kaz appeared at her side. Somehow what had seemed impossible only minutes ago was no longer feeling like such a high mountain to climb after all. A flicker of desire, warm as a cat's tongue, licked over her naval and pooled low in the bowl of her hips. She tilted her face up to meet his eyes. "I want this," she told him, and reached for his hand. "Do _you_?" 

They left the room, a procession of four, close and quiet as they made for Wylan's room, with its high bed and red silk sheets. At the foot of the bed, Jesper's thumb stroked Inej's cheekbone; Wylan's fingers encased her free hand. 

"I thought girls weren't in your area of interest?" Inej asked, genuinely curious. 

Wylan shrugged. "They aren't. But you're... you." 

She supposed she could understand that. She rubbed his knuckles with a thumb and delighted in the feeling of plush crimson carpeting underneath her bare toes all the way to the master bedroom, where candles burning low in their glass-throated bulbs made everything their light touched look buttery and inviting. 

Jesper and Wylan pulled free of the others to embrace. Inej watched with rapt attention as they kissed; Jesper folding his body over to meet the shorter man's lips. Her breath caught in her throat watching the way Wylan's fingers curled into the hair at the nape of Jesper's neck, as she saw his pink tongue slip between Jesper's full lips. 

A glance at Kaz showed that he was also watching; eyes dark and glittering as the surface of the canal. His lips were set; his cheekbones and jawline stark in the light. He did not look entirely human in this otherworldly sort of place, but as though Dirtyhands had slipped into place... and Dirtyhands was a greedy monster who would never be satisfied until he owned the world. 

Inej dared touch his wrist, and felt the fire burning in those eyes set her alight when he turned the full force of his gaze onto her face. 

"I want--" Kaz said, voice low as a purr, and then stopped. She remembered the words he'd said to her over a year ago now, and closed her eyes, recalling his intonation as he'd said it. _You. I want you._

"- this," he said instead, anwering her previous question. 

"So come here, then, Brekker," Jesper said, Zemini accent growing thicker with his rising lust. 

Kaz did as asked, and looked Jesper eye-to-eye as he stood, awaiting a verdict. Jesper's smile was kind, but not soft. 

"I want to undress you," Jesper said. He crossed to his and Wylan's dresser drawers and, shuffling inside, he found a pair of gloves-- leather, made for horseback riding. As Kaz and Inej watched, he slipped them onto his own hands, then held his long fingers out as explanation. "Can I?" 

Kaz blinked, surprised at the forethought. Jesper understood his aversion to skin contact. "I-" a shadow crossed his face as he considered. "I think so. But what if it's not something I can...?" He faltered, unable, even now, to truly voice his weakness aloud. 

"Then tell me to stop," was Jesper's simple, patient answer. The rest was clear: _Tell me to stop, and trust me to do it._

Did Kaz trust Jesper? 

"Very well, then. Undress me, Fahey." 

The command in his voice made them all shiver. Jesper tried not to let his eagerness show as he returned to Kaz's side and, looking into his eyes, began with the misaligned buttons of his hastily-thrown-on shirt. 

Wylan sat on the edge of the bed, watching raptly. His own shirt slid higher, revealing additional centimeteres of creamy thigh. The tension was nigh unbearable as button after button was pulled from its hole, revealing more and more of Kaz's vein-marbled skin underneath. Between the two men, lightening simmered. 

"Inej," Jesper said, just as conversationally. "I wonder what you'd think of sitting next to Wylan on that bed and touching yourself?" 

He glanced at her, a gleam of playful wickedness in his eyes, and Inej felt a heated flush rise from her chest to her cheeks. This was nothing like the pious rites of the moments before. When Jesper was around, sex became something less fearful for them all. Something _fun._ "If you're not terribly opposed," he amended, when she gawked at him. Kaz turned to look at her as well, and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to show him how he made her feel. Maybe this wasn't like how she'd imagined things going in their back-and-forth letters... but maybe this was a way that could work for them after all. 

That can be arranged," she said lightly, and crossed the room to the bed. Wylan smiled encouragingly as she laid back, propped on a mountain of pillows, still facing the two standing Crows. She made sure that she had Kaz's rapt attention before she spread her legs. 

Wanting to tease herself, to really pique her desire and help her feel less shy, she started at her throat, trailing her fingers lightly there. Kaz jolted, unable to tear his eyes off of her even when Jesper dared brush a gloved thumb over his collarbone- lightly at first, and then more daringly. For differing sensation, she used her thumbnails to drag thin lines down her sternum before taking her own tiny breasts into her palms, rolling her dark nipples the way she liked. She breathed out a little sigh of contentment, amazed and almost giddy at how safe she felt-- how loved. 

Jesper stepped forward, closer to Kaz now. Closer than anyone ever dared be with the Bastard of the Barrell. "I want you, Brekker," Jesper admitted boldly. "I've wanted you for years." 

"I know," Kaz replied, at last taking his dark eyes from Inej's to regard his most prized sharpshooter. "I've... your feelings are... I've often thought about..." 

Jesper's dimples made an appearance from the depths of his warm smile. "Oh, Brekker. Someday, I think I'll kiss you." 

Kaz swallowed. He was bare from the waist up, framed by his open shirt. "Someday, I think I'll let you," he admitted, so quietly he could barely be heard. 

He closed his eyes when Jesper, in a near-embrace, slid his shirt from his shoulders and laid them gently over the back of a chair. Then, still maintaining eye-contact, he dropped to his knees and began the process of unbuttoning Kaz's trousers for him. 

When Wylan laid down onto the cushions beside her, Inej scooted in close, and he tucked an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple. "This is good for them," he whispered into her ear, and she nodded, agreeing in full. She was proud of them both. She was proud of herself. 

"Thank you for allowing us to have this with you," she told Wylan in full sincerity. "It can't be easy." 

He grinned impishly. "You say that as though I'm not enjoying the show. Trust me; I'm benefiting from this as much as you are." 

When she looked, she saw the way his erection tented the front of his shirt, rendering the light fabric near-transparent from the wetness at the tip. She smiled fondly, feeling her own dampness on her thighs. How was it possible that she'd ever been afraid? "Why don't you lose the shirt?" she suggested, and sat up to give him room to tug the thing off over his head, dropping it to the side, before settling back into their original position. Her thumb traced idle circles over her naval. 

Wylan was soft, but had the beginnings of muscle forming under said softness. He was fair as cream and kissed head to toe with freckles. A thick patch of strawberry hair coarsed down from just under his navel to around the root of his flushed, straining, thick cock; furring his thighs. Inej was small; dark; hard and scarred. They couldn't have looked more different if they tried, and yet somehow they fit together well. 

"Go on," Wylan urged her softly. "I've got you." 

Tentatively, Inej walked her fingers down her pubic mound, stroked the outside of her slit, and felt Wylan's hand grip her shoulder, grounding her. The soft sound of her breath catching in her throat drew Kaz and Jesper's attention. Jesper's smile turned wolfish. "Looks like you two are having a good time over there."

He was sliding Kaz's trousers down his hips, revealing simple white undergarments. Kaz's hands and wrists were still covered by his own long gloves. She watched this in curiosity, and then anxiety tugged at her breastbone when Jesper reached the bad part of Kaz's leg- almost certain that Kaz would tell him to stop, would insist he not be touched on that old injury. It'd been her hand on his leg that had been the last straw before... 

Kaz shifted back almost imperceptibly, and Jesper's hands stalled immediately, knowing this might be pushing too far. He looked up at Kaz, awaiting a verdict. After a moment, Kaz nodded. Jesper, almost disbelieving, resumed the process of undressing him, fabric rolling back to reveal miles of scarred skin. 

"I've never known you to be so quiet, Fahey," Kaz remarked, speaking a little too fast in nervousness. "I thought you'd be speaking a thousand words a minute at this opportunity." 

Jesper smirked. "Well if you _want_ praises-" 

"I don't." 

"... I figured. Wylan, on the other hand, is over there looking good enough to eat." 

Obligingly, Kaz swept his slow, molten gaze over his demolitions expert; his eyes didn't linger on Wylan's exposed cock, held in his freckled hand, but it did not shy from it, either. If she were forced to describe her leader's expression in a word, Inej might suggest 'curious.' Wylan flushed like a daylily under the attention. 

"Kaz," Inej sighed, sinking deeper into her pile of pillows. Her heart fluttered like a trapped bird. Her fingers teasing her mound, were beginning to make her entire body hum and glow golden. Wylan, unthinking, tilted his head and pressed his mouth to her shoulder as he worked himself into his own fist, panting onto her skin. 

Jesper did not attempt to remove Kaz's undergarments, but instead rose to his feet, sliding a gloved hand up Kaz's belly and chest as he went. Inej watched the muscles in Kaz's torso ripple at the touch. His face betrayed a foggy heat at the motion--- he must be so incredibly sensitive to all touch, having experienced it so seldomly, The thought of being among those to return such an element to Kaz's life- as much as he would permit, anyway- made Inej's blood run hot. Her hips moved, rolled onto her fingers, as she slipped a questing index finger inside herself.

"What is it you crazy kids want?" Jesper asked, smiling at his three companions. "No requests are off the table." 

The question had Inej feeling rather shy; Kaz too, but Wylan spoke without hesitation: "Want your mouth, Jes." 

Jesper smirked, pleased and knowing. "Of course you do." 

"I know what I like. Inej, do you want Jes's fingers? Or is it Kaz's fingers you want?" 

At their shocked silence, Jesper crooked his head, indicating a chair at the end of the bed. "Pull it closer. You needn't remove your gloves." 

The thought of Kaz keeping his gloves on had not occurred to either of them. in hindsight, Inej felt rather foolish. She would not have dreamed of asking him to take them off in any other situation, so why had they thought taking away the things that made Kaz feel most safe was a necessity for sex? 

Jesper, settling onto his knees on the floor by the bed like he intended to pray, seemed to catch their thoughts. "Don't feel bad. No offense, but this is something I've much more practice at than either you, and I _want_ to help. I've learned a few tricks over time." 

Kaz drew the chaircloser to the bed and hesitantly sat. Allowing himself to be instructed in this physical act looked as alien to him as it did to her. Inej abruptly felt proud of them both. She parted her legs as Wylan took her hand. 

"It's okay," Wylan said- to her; to them all. "Do you need to take a break?" 

In response, Kaz pressed his gloved hand flat to Inej's thigh. The heat, the smoothness of the leather, sent shockwaves of need flooding through her. 

"I'm ready," Kaz said, and cupped her mons in hand. 

Inej gasped, head tilting back. Wylan's red curls brushed her cheeks. 

"Look at me," Kaz said, in his gravelly voice, and so Inej did, though it made her face feel quite hot. Kaz Brekker, seated beside the bed upon which she lay, looking down from between her spread knees. 

Jesper's white smile was a sharp slash in his dark face; in the darkened room. _"Well!_ " he said, a teasing note in his voice. "Maybe you two lovebirds don't need me as much as you think." 

"Don't be silly, Jes," Inej was quick to protest, her voice warbling just a bit over her crashing pulse. "We will always need y- _aah!_ " 

Kaz's fingers, guided by the slickness, pushed through her folds to stroke her, the firmness of the motion belying his inexperience. It still spread like fire through her entire body; rocked to the core like a lightning burst. _Kaz is touching me. Kaz has his fingers on my--_

"You're doing well, Brekker," Jes purred, glancing over. "If I may?" 

Kaz sat back, curious thief's eyes alight as Jesper glanced at Inej's face for permission before sliding his _own_ gloved hands over Kaz's, guiding him. The sheets spread cool and soft and lush under Inej; the scent of arousal hanging in a thick smog in the air. Against her palm, Wylan rubbed his thumb comfortingly as Jesper spoke. "See that little covering? Just push it back. And that button there--" 

Inej's hips jolted, rocking into them both as a telling little cry left her lips. She felt exposed from head to toe, each nerve ending singing as Jesper rubbed a gentle thumb over her pulsing clit. 

"Fascinating," Kaz said, and Jesper sat back, watching Kaz work. He didn't immediately set to rubbing the oversensitive button, instead letting his fingers roam. His free hand stroked Inej's twitching inner thigh, and his eyes... 

She couldn't have looked away from his eyes if she'd tried. Exposed, she might be; but she'd never felt more treasured. _Safe. I am safe._

Wylan moaned almost directly into Inej's ear, and she startled, looking over to where Jesper was thoroughly immersed between those thick thighs. 

Cautiously, Inej dipped a hand between her thighs and slid a finger inside herself, using her free hand to cup a breast. Kaz, curious as a crow, watched and then immitated, tapping at her finger with his own and sliding in two of his own to take its place. 

A heat began building up in her naval as Kaz worked and quirked two fingers inside his lover, stoking a fire, attuned to Inej's every twitch and gasp. He was such a remarkably _fast_ learner. He worked Inej as he might one of his complicated locks; attentive and intuitive and so skillful that she grew oblivious to Wylan's panting; to the slick sounds of her own body. 

"Kaz," she whimpered, squirming. He coaxed her on long, skillful fingers; encouraging; _burning._ "Kaz, I'm so _close--_ " 

His eyes alight with fever-bright earnestness, he bent low over her body, as low as he dared. She ached to touch him, to press a hand to his sharp cheek, his smooth shoulder. His moon-pale skin looked so terribly soft and she craved to stroke him, to love him, to please him as he did her. 

She loved him too much to try it. He was Kaz, and he was here, and that would be enough for her as long as it was enough for him. 

"What do you need, my love?" he asked, in that special way he only ever spoke to her. 

"H-harder. Faster. _More._ " It was getting hard to think, with all these fireworks going off in her brain. Her toes curled into the silken sheets, and it was getting harder and harder to keep her hips from flying off the bed. One moment her knees wanted to close against the influx of sensation, and the next she was spreading herself wider, opening herself to him. Her appetite grew and grew until she was starving, ravenous for more. For him. She was squeezing Wylan's hand so hard her fingers grew numb.

Jesper was a dark shadow at the foot of the bed, using his mouth to make Wylan cry and curl and beg in half-finished whimpers. Every so often Kaz's eyes would flicker to watch, admiring the smooth seam of Jesper's spine, the red flush that dominated most of Wylan's upper chest. But now he shocked all three occupants of the bed by standing from his chair and putting a knee on the bed, straddling Inej's form. Patiently, calmly, he situated himself, his bad knee elevated on a spare cushion. 

"Kaz?" Inej gasped, her hole clenching around his three fingers, his thumb still buzzing periodically on her clit. She'd been knocked from her rhythm and felt impending orgasm, sweet relief, ebbing away before it quite reached her. "Kaz, what are you--" 

"I'm loving you," Kaz explained. "As best I know how." 

Her cunt ached and her heart felt too full as he bowed over her, strands of his hair brushing her skin first before their foreheads touched. Breath bathed her jaw and throat-- Kaz's breath. She felt a momentary brush of his eyelids against her cheek as he slid his eyes closed, and then they moved together. Her hips rolling into his hand, his fingers setting up rapid thrusting rhythm. 

Inej shattered into a thousand fragments of Grisha-fine glass, spilling over the edge of the world, and Kaz was there to catch every shard, to hold them in his hands as she whined and bucked and quite lost sight of the world, and he was there, steady as a lighthouse ever beckoning her back home, when she could again breathe. 

He remained for some time, his forehead on hers, their breaths intermingling. 

"I feel as though my heart is trying to break out of my chest," Inej laughed, and felt Kaz's gloved hand smooth her hair from her damp face. "You stole that too, didn't you?" 

"I _am_ a thief," Kaz smiled-- truly smiled-- and Inej felt a stray tear roll from her eye and down the length of her nose, even as she returned the expression. 

Something warm was filling her heart, starting at the center of Inej's chest and radiating outward like a sunburst. It culminated when Kaz pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Oh," was all she could say. Just that: a tiny, wavering "oh." 

"I am here," Kaz promised. "It's just me. You're safe with me." 

She knew she was. 

Slowly, keeping eye contact, giving him all the time in the world to move if he needed to, Inej tilted her head up and let her lips graze Kaz's cheek. Near imperceptively, he give a faint shiver; just the tiniest hint of a tremor under his skin; but did not pull away. She receded, laying back into the pillows, and allowed him to sit back in his chair. 

"Are you two alright?" Jesper asked, reminding them that they were not alone. Inej turned her head to see Jesper with his head resting comfortably on a spent Wylan's chest, the demolition's expert stroking his partner's hair fondly. 

Inej turned back to Kaz, assessing. He looked flushed; wired, but not upset. Not as though he was trying to withdraw into his shell. He met her gaze, held it, and gave the tiniest nod, the barest jerk of his chin. 

Inej could hardly contain her smile. 

"Yes," she said. "I think we are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think Inej bought a pair of gloves after this that she wears most of the time, to help Kaz feel more comfortable with casual contact. Maybe if enough of the Dregs do that, it'll become an edgy Ketterdam fashion trend.  
> Thank you for sticking with this story until the end. And thank you for all your kind comments that kept me going.


End file.
